


A Broken Reality

by Penguin117



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt d'Artagnan, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguin117/pseuds/Penguin117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four of them have never been closer, and yet all it took was a single night to drive D'artagnan into a nightmare he couldn't wake from. Will they find him in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silent Night

Their trip back was long and uneventful, after they had delivered the message crucial to their mission.

After all the excitement they had encountered, adrenaline was starting to wear off and they were groggily making their way though the maze of woods as a "shortcut" back to the main road. Aramis yawned, cricket's chirps in the dead of night slowly lulling him to sleep as he horse rocked him with each step. Athos was in front, D'artagnan in the back, and Porthos laughing to himself on the right. _Wait. What?_   Aramis tilted his head as he looked on in confusion.

Porthos was nudging D'artagnan's horse along the path and had D'artagnan's horse pull up beside Aramis keeping the same pace, but D'artagnan's head was down. Aramis almost wondered what his friend was doing until he saw D'artagnan's eyes were closed. A short burst of panic coursed though him as he ran a mental list of injuries D'artagnan might have received earlier until he heard Porthos let out a laughing whisper. "Didn't even know people could sleep upright."

 _He's sleeping on his horse?_  Aramis leaned down on his own horse, letting out a small sigh as relief swept over. "Apparently not." Aramis grinned as their companion began slowly leaning down onto his shoulder.

Porthos silently pulled the horses reins from D'artagnan's loose grip. "I'll leave you two lovers to enjoy your midnight stroll then." Porthos grinned at Aramis, who was rolling his eyes as he shook his head, quiet laughter escaping his lips. D'artagnan shot up as soon they stopped laughing, fumbling to stay on his horse as he slowly regained consciousness.Looking between the two, he frowned at their all too knowing smirks and raised eyebrows. "Wasn't sleeping... just thinking." D'artagnan scrubbed his eyes, blinking furiously as he snatched his reins back from Porthos's now open palm. He straightened up and was soon at a quicker pace behind Athos, who hadn't even turned around since they got on their horses.

"Yeah? Thinking 'bout what then, _hmm_?" Porthos was back at his side, leaning his head over to make eye contact again.

"Um...things?"

Porthos glanced to Aramis on D'artagnan's other side, failing to hide a smile as he scoffed. "Just be glad his sword's faster than his train of thought." Aramis called out, now back at D'artagnan's left. "Hey! You're telling me you two aren't at all tired from earlier?" D'artagnan retorted, waving his left arm in an attempt to knock off Aramis's hat. Aramis let out a laugh as he swayed back, one hand gripping on the reins tightly while the other held his hat in place.

"'course! Don't think anyone of us expected 'em to launch gunpowder from the rooftop." Porthos laughed again as he ruffled D'artagnan's hair, now bringing the attention away from Aramis. He cleared his throat, nodding at them and leaning in. They all followed, straining to hear his whisper."Though I'd give up all the wine and gold in the world to see Athos's face after the maid locked 'im in the hen house again." They all let out a snicker as they leaned back onto their own horses, loud voice in front of them making them jump and look up at their friend. "If I recall correctly Porthos," Athos looked over his shoulder, growing smile clear on his face as he continued, "You're the one who took the key from her and shrieked like a _banshee_ when one of those same chickens jumped onto your cloak." He turned back around smiling, hearing Porthos let out a grunt as Aramis and D'artagnan lost it next to him.

"You know I don't like birds!" Porthos muttered, staring daggers at his two friends who bit their lip to stop themselves from grinning. "And the damn thing nearly scratched my neck into shreds after Aramis tried _'soothing'_ it!"

Aramis stopped laughing, lifting an eyebrow as he crossed his arms, pretending to be hurt. "As if i would be able to tell which of the hens would react to having their wings touched" He sassed, earning another quiet laugh from D'artagnan.

"Keep your eyes open for an inn or at the very least some type of shelter." Athos called out again, as they stepped out onto the road, now cleared from the large forest. Stars glittered overhead, sky lighting their path with moonlight. "The horses will need their rest."

" _Just_ the horses?" Porthos glanced over at D'artagnan, who began yawning and rubbing his eyes again. D'artagnan froze mid-yawn, and gave a hard glare in response, shoulders tense. Porthos grinned at how quickly he could get him worked up, still childlike and stubborn.

"I think I spot one, off to the side over there" Aramis broke through the silence, pointing far off down the path towards a small, darkened home. It looked abandoned.

"Hang on, that one's closer by the look of it." D'artagnan pointed to the side of the road, into the thick trees that broke off into a path. Through the darkness of night they all saw the small box of light, their beacon for a place of rest. Athos nodded and pulled off to the side, dismounting and others following suit. There was a small path, too small for horse riding unless they all wanted tree branches instead of necks.

The path was long, almost hidden away if not for the small light in the distance. It would have been impossible to find this place during the day, since it went back into the deep forest before coming to a clearing, house in the middle. "Seems alright, glad to be on my _own_ legs after the long ride" Porthos sighed, tying down their horses to a post near a water trough. A small rock wall met their path, acting as a short fence, no higher than their waist. The sign that read "Inn" on a post by the fence was dusted over slightly, but they paid no mind as the thought of a warm room and bed seemed like divine paradise at the moment.

Aramis walked slowly behind D'artagnan with his arms behind his back, wincing when D'artagnan stumbled on a root. " _Soo_...just thinking then? Not that you're _tired_ , though." Aramis held out his arm when D'artagnan tripped again, only to have his arm waved away.

"I'm not..." D'artagnan lazily looked over, stretching as he walked. Struggling to stifle his yawn, he failed only for the sound to be followed by a sigh as Athos rolled his eyes and stopped walking, turning around to face his men. "Porthos."

"Right." Porthos nodded his head in agreement and crouched over with his knee on the dirt path. Blocking the way for the others, D'artagnan stopped in confusion blinking rapidly again as Aramis simply nodded and stepped off to the side. An owl flew by, staring at the group, its cry echoing through the dark. "Alright then lad, up you go" Porthos spoke again, still not standing.

" _What_ ?"

"Hop on." Aramis motioned to Porthos, side stepping around the two as he walked over to where Athos stood not far off.

"I can walk you know" D'artagnan crossed his arms and huffed, still not budging.

Athos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing full well how long it would take before the hard-headed Gascon finally gave in. "Yes, and you'll walk right into the ground if you don't get on and shut up." He stared D'artagnan down, giving him the commanding look he typically reserved for Porthos and Aramis when they weren't behaving.

"But..."

"You heard 'im. Shut it." Porthos called out again, clearing his throat as he waved towards his back. Reluctantly, D'artagnan gave them another look before positioning himself over Porthos. Wrapping his arms over Porthos's shoulders and carefully around his neck, he let his head fall over his arms as Porthos grunted and got to his feet, walking to the others. "Thanks but," D'artagnan yawned, head still lolling next to Porthos neck, sighing as he closed his eyes. "M'not...tired..." Came the last few words, murmured into the cloak as he drifted off, finally asleep.

Silence enveloped them as they finally turned down the path and spotted the building where the light had come from."Pfft, exhausted is more like it" Porthos scoffed, fixing his grip on D'artagnan, who hadn't stirred in the slightest. It hadn't even occurred to him easy it was to carry him, it only felt as if he was carrying a younger brother home. That, along with how light he actually was compared lugging home Athos and Aramis, just emphasized how young his friend actually was

Athos sighed, opening the gate for them. "Its understandable, anyone would be if they had to scramble after the both of you when the horses managed to 'get _out_ somehow'."

"You do have a valid point..." Aramis nodded, crossing his arms. "Porthos did it."

Porthos gasped, nearly letting D'artagnan slip from his grasp as he stopped. He glared at Aramis, lowering his voice to an angry whisper as to not wake his sleeping friend. "You swore! What happened to making an oath?" The two began bickering, both in hushed whispers as Athos held the door open to the Inn. "Porthos-"

"What'd you mean  _now_ we're even? There was never an  _even_ to start with!"

" _Aramis."_ Athos sighed.

"There was _too_ an even! What about back a the barracks a few weeks ago? _I_ was the one who had to take that  _crusty-_ "

"For the love of- _Will you two get inside already?_ I'm not a damn doorstop!" Athos hissed quietly, rubbing a hand over his face as the two finally stepped through the doors. Taking off his hat, he walked up to the front desk, fighting the urge to slap both of his friends heads.  _Children,_ He thought. _I'm surrounded by children._


	2. Nothing wrong with a little drink

Athos rung what looked like a contraption meant to work as a bell on the wall again. Wondering whether the Inn was even open he turned to look at his brothers when he heard the quiet voice behind him.

"How can I help you gentlemen?"

He hadn't quite expected a boy of his age to be running things at this hour. He seemed younger than D'artagnan, but only by a few years. Athos shook off the uneasy feeling he had when looking into the boys hazel eyes, marking it off as exhaustion. "We'd like a room for the night, if possible. Double beds are fine if you don't have four singles."

The boy had looked warily between the three and glanced at the one hanging over one of the others shoulders. "He's still living, don't worry." Aramis smiled, before flinching as Porthos kicked him. 

"Don't frighten him, idiot."

Athos turned his head, with a look of disbelief so strong that the other two immediately stopped their arguing once more.

Facing the boy again, he turned to show his pauldron. "We're of the kings Musketeers. No harm will come to you, we only wish to rest for the night."

The boy reached under the desk in a hurry, quickly handing Athos a small ring with a key , still eyeing the other two. "Room's upstairs, down the hall."

Athos nodded, giving his thanks before leading the other two away. The room was fairly large, despite the Inn's outside appearance. Four beds lined the walls as well as a table with chairs off in the corner. Considering they were out in the middle of the forest this Inn seemed like a dream come true in their eyes. Athos went back to get blankets while Aramis and Porthos got settled. Porthos grunted as he leaned back to let D'artagnan slip into one of the beds. Although it was a hard fall, D'artagnan simply rolled over onto his front and sighed into his pillow. Porthos whistled,"Christ, lad's out for night entirely...".

Aramis quietly removed D'artagnan's shoes before removing his own and sitting at the table, leaning back as he lit a candle. 

"Think the boy downstairs s'got any ink?" Aramis looked back at Porthos' grinning face as he lifted up a feather. Aramis smile quickly dropped as the door opened next to him.  
"Porthos, you are not drawing on someone else's face. We both know how well that turns out." He tried to sound serious, crossing his arms and shaking his head. A blanket was thrown over him, muffling his yelp. Athos raised an eyebrow, arms still full of blankets.  
Porthos shrugged."Was just a suggestion..." He caught the blankets thrown over, keeping one for himself as he covered D'artagnan.  
"And not your brightest one at that." Athos replied, sitting down by a now freed Aramis, although still somewhat covered in blanket, and pulled out his map. It was still a few days to go, but after this they should be energized to be back in Paris within two days time.

A few minutes had dragged by as Athos cleaned his pistol, Porthos lying back in his own bed, and Aramis leaned back in his chair with his hat covering his face. A quiet knock had Athos look up and doubt whether he had merely imagined it, but when the knock sounded a second time he put his things down and opened the door to find the boy from the front standing outside.

"Yes?" Athos looked down the corridor, wondering if something had happened. "What's wrong...um...?"  _Well damn, I had never asked for his name._

"L-Lucas, and I'm very-I'm sorry for disturbing. My father, uh, he sent me to give you this. Said it's his finest wine." The boy lifted up a bottle of wine and a basket filled with bread and cheese. Considering he and the others hadn't eaten yet it looked amazing, and the bread was warm.

Athos shook his head, ignoring his stomach. "We hadn't ordered anything."

"Y-Yes, I understand but he insisted." Lucas dropped the things into Athos' hands."Said it's worth giving it to men of honor...such as yourselves." Athos fixed his grip as Lucas handed him four glasses.

Athos nodded, smiling earnestly at the nervous boy in front of him. Placing the basket down inside the room, he placed his free hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Send your father my thanks, he sounds like a good man." Lucas smiled and nodded eagerly, before running down to the main room again, disappearing around a corner as Athos stepped back into the room, feeling everyone's eyes land on him and the basket by the floor.

"What's that?" Aramis glanced back at the basket on the floor, door opening waking him. Spotting the wine bottle, he blinked once before raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms with a smirk.

"Don't give me that look, I never ordered anything." Athos half raised his arms, grip still tight on the bottle and glasses.

Porthos snorted, "Oh, we didn't think you'd just admit it." He sat up, walking over to pick up the basket. He hummed as he picked out a warm piece of bread before offering some to Aramis, sitting down beside him.

Athos placed the bottle and glasses onto the table gently. Aramis reached over for one of the glasses, opening the bottle and smelling it before pouring a little in his glass. "The innkeeper sent this as a gift. Be sure to give thanks when we leave." Athos continued, picking off a piece of cheese from the basket and biting into it.

Porthos looked back at D'artagnan, bundled under a blanket and sleeping quietly. He glanced at the basket again, debating whether or not he was going to be happy or upset that they would wake him so quickly. "Should we wake 'im?" Porthos turned to face Athos, who was sipping the wine from his glass.

Aramis shook his head briefly, taking another small bite of cheese. "Nah, let him sleep. He hasn't gotten the chance to do so since we left the barracks. Pass me a cup, will you?"

Athos slid a cup to Aramis, breaking off some of the cheese and bread and wrapping it in a bit of cloth the basket contained. "He'll eat in the morning. For now he should rest." Porthos nodded getting a cup of his own and shared the dinner with his friends, pleased that D'artagnan would get something to fill his stomach before they continued their journey back home in the morning.


	3. What just happened?

_Who slammed the door?_

D'artagnan was drifting between dreaming and finally opening his eyes, well aware of the noise getting louder. They weren't under attack, since normally Athos would have immediately woken him. _Maybe it was something else._ D'artagnan thought to himself sleepily, relishing how comfortable the bed was at this exact second.

"Well, it's your _own_ fault that the _damn_ door didn't hold!"

D'artagnan flinched awake, consciousness slapped onto him as the first yell broke the silence of the room. He sat up quickly, dazed as he saw Aramis and Porthos in a fury towards each other.

 "Yes, well I'm very sure that your brilliant idea was the thing that led us to that problem wouldn't you?" Aramis snapped, giving Porthos a strong shove in return. 

_What the hell?_

"Stop!" D'artagnan leaped up and stepped between the two, heart beating quickly as he caught the look of rage in his brother's eyes. Aramis seemed to back away for a second, calming D'artagnan's waking nerves. He'd almost failed at stopping Aramis' attempt of a punch at Porthos face. D'artagnan scrambled to block the shot, "Hey, Hey _enough!_ Have you two lost your minds?" Aramis glared in D'artagnan's face, and Porthos scoffed, muttering under his breath. Aramis turned his attention back to Porthos over D'artagnan's shoulder. "Can't lose what you never had..." He said, sneering.

"Damned _womanizer..."_ Porthos hands tightened into fists as he took a step forward, fire in his eyes making D'artagnan's widen in response. Aramis began trying to brush past from behind, trying to face Porthos again. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Stop!"D'artagnan gripped onto Aramis' sleeve and led him away from Porthos. Aramis jerked his arm out of D'artagnan's grip in annoyance as Porthos stormed out of the room, not bothering to say anything else.

D'artagnan's heart beat was loudly thumping against his temple, letting out a breath of relief as he turned back to face his angered brother. "What the hell happened to you two? Where's Ath-"

 

He felt cold. Cold as the metal in the pistol currently pointed at his face. D'artagnan slowly began raising his arms, glancing up to see the rage in Aramis' eyes now projected towards him. "Aramis?" 

" _Never_ pull me like that. You understand?" Aramis kept his arm level, not a single glimpse of the light hearted soul in his eyes. It was just a cold stare, unlike his usual self. Nothing but hate and bitterness flaring behind his eyes.

D'artagnan nodded warily. Whatever part of him had felt warm and secure in that bed earlier was slowly being peeled away and leaving cold fear in him. "A-Alright...next time-"

The revolver clicked as Aramis pulled down the hammer. His gun was loaded. He'd always kept it loaded, just in case. His eyes narrowed and he raised his chin, clearly not liking his answer. "There isn't _going_ to be a next time. Do. You. Understand?"

D'artagnan swallowed, realizing how dry his throat was at this exact second and not liking how much fear he could feel fester in the pits of his stomach. This was his friend. His _brother._ There's never been anything that had happened between any of them before that would have them so hostile towards each other. This couldn't be happening. It had to be some dream, some  _nightmare._ "Ara-"

" _Understand?!_ "

D'artagnan shut his eyes as the yell threatened to make him flinch. He lowered his head, signaling he never wanted to fight and hoping Aramis would finally understand. "Yes! _Yes_ I understand. Just _please_ , lower your pistol." Silence remained and D'artagnan finally deemed it safe enough to open his eyes. The pain that erupted from his jaw sent him onto the wooden floor,  _hard._ Groaning as he sat up, he gingerly touched his jaw as he looked at Aramis walk past him in annoyance.

"I'm going to ready the horses, try to not stick your nose into conversations _not_ involving you for once, will you?"

The door was slammed shut with enough force to shake the frame. Steadying himself as he got to his feet, he glanced back at his bed, wondering if this was some twisted dream he was having. Hearing the horses outside his window, he shook it off and quickly grabbed his breakfast from the table, glad someone had at least though of him to give him food. He didn't like how this day had started, but maybe he would be able to change it. He walked out the door, almost missing the sight of a young boy hiding behind a door. D'artagnan gave a gentle wave and smiled, quickly grimacing as the pain made itself known again. The boy's eyes widened, and he nervously shook his own hand before quickly disappearing into the room.

_Must have been scared by the yelling. Hope he doesn't think too badly of us. We aren't like thus, we're never like this..._

D'artagnan frowned, heading outside and noticing Porthos slip behind the Inn towards the wood pile hidden away.  _Maybe he's cooled off now._ D'artagnan thought, light hope keeping him optimistic as he followed suit, hoping to find out what happened. Despite his optimism, D'artagnan found himself cautiously waiting behind the wood pile, waiting until Porthos sat down on a stump.  _Here goes nothing..._ He thought to himself before stepping out from behind the wood.


	4. It's only growing

Porthos was sitting on the stump behind the lot, head buried in his hands as if he was having the worst migraine of his life. D'artagnan was cautiously making his way over, gently rubbing his jaw absent mindedly. Pulling his hand away from his face, he made sure to look as calm as possible, despite how sore his face seemed to be at the moment."Porthos, what happened back in that inn?"

Porthos looked up briefly, not even noticing D'artagnan arrive until he spoke. He didn't look happy, and just rolled his eyes with a frown.

D'artagnan's hope faltered, shoulders lowering in defeat. "Please, I just need to figure out what happened before Aramis snaps." Porthos got to his feet, ignoring him entirely, yet stopped after taking a step and letting out a sigh.

Porthos' hand was still in a tight fist, making D'artagnan still feel uneasy. "'e just let his already big head grow a bit more, and got too much for him." Porthos turned around and walked in D'artagnan's direction to head for the horses. "I was only helpin'."

It came out before D'artagnan could stop it."I don't really think getting someone angrier would help anyone..." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

Porthos stopped walking. "I said I was helpin' him." Facing D'artagnan, it was easy to spot the scowl on his face.

D'artagnan faltered, trying to cool the situation to where it was before. "No, I know-It's just that-"

"Just what?" Porthos had his eyebrow raised, taking a few steps forward, tall body immediately making D'artagnan feel small. Now he knew why any of their enemies would basically have the fear of god in them whenever Porthos was charging at them. He was towering over D'artagnan when he reached him. He was as scared as he was back in the room. Fear pricked at him again, remembering how badly that went. "I'm sorry-"

He never finished his sentence. His throat was cut off as Porthos gripped him tightly. 

His throat was burning. Part of him wanted to kick out and free himself, but the other? Oh, the other was refusing to believe what was happening. Hands clawed weakly at his friends hands. "Por-" He couldn't scream, couldn't cry out to where he knew his friends where currently getting their horses. His friends, yet they _hated_ him. _Why_ did they  _hate_ him?

"Weren't doing a damned thing. Only decided to 'save the day' to be the hero, didn't you?"

His eyes were forcing themselves to keep themselves open. He could feel tears start to form at the edge of his eyes and his vision was going. _He's going...to kill me?_ He gripped as tightly as he could onto Porthos' jacket, hoping to reach him before he was gone entirely. His head was ringing. "Porth's"

_Why was...this happening?_

His eyes slipped shut and he felt himself falling, believing it to be him finally going under. The ground was harder than he had expected, but nevertheless he was grateful to be able to breathe again. The sharp intake of sweet air stung his throat, causing him to collapse forward as he hacked. "Por-" D'artagnan tried desperately to call out to his friend, hopefully wake him up to realize what had just happened. Hell,  _he_ was barely focusing enough to believe what just happened. Looking up, he lost hope when he saw the scowl etched onto his brother's face.

"Look at this, the 'hero' needs help." Porthos smacked the shaking hand reaching for him in disdain. He shook his head in annoyance before walking around the Inn, heading for the horses he'd so kindly treated the day before. "Stop trying to help everyone you see. Might not even want it."

D'artagnan finally stopped coughing long enough to actually breathe right.  _Breathe, just breathe._ He forced himself back onto his knees, sitting up and watching his friend leave him. Standing up slowly, hand bracing the wall just in case his legs decided to give out form shock, he flinched as he saw movement on his left. It was his reflection in the window, and he leaned in looking at the sight of his neck. Touching the tender skin, he'd learned enough from Aramis' lessons on first aid to know what was coming.  _It's going to bruise..._

Shaking it off, he pulled his jacket closer to him in an attempt to hide whatever evidence could be seen of his "talk" with Porthos.  _I shouldn't get them angrier...Them..._ D'artagnan's head shot up as realization dawned on him.

Athos.

He'd still hadn't talked to Athos yet.

And he was ashamed to think this but...did he really _want_ to? After everything that just happened within a couple of minutes, how was he sure that his leader, his oldest brother  _wasn't_ going to finish the job that Porthos almost did?

"D'artgnan, if you don't get out here we're going to leave!"

There was his voice. He didn't seem as angry as he could have, but that could just be taking it lightly. D'artagnan started walking past the wood pile, getting the view of his friends not facing each other and looking like someone just stole something they valued dearly. "Com-" He grimaced, clearing his throat after noting how hoarse his voice sounded.  _No yelling for today. Hurts enough already._ He nodded quickly at Athos, who looked as disinterested as he did whenever the Cardinal was speaking to him. "Finally decided to move? Good." Athos sneered, irritation made clear on his face as he turned his horse away. D'artagnan's horse, Buttercup, was still tied down but otherwise not injured at all, so he thanked God nothing had at least happened to his horse as well. Getting on Buttercup, he made his way to the group before Athos began leading them away without a word.

* * *

 

They had been walking in silence for the past few hours, and although generally D'artagnan would have been laughing at his friends stories to pass the time, there was no was he was going to test that out after past experiences. He was even surprised no one had attacked them, yet in a way he was glad because there was no way he could guarantee his _own_ safety during the fight.  _They already wanted to kill me before, no use in giving them the opportunity...._ D'artagnan's head lowered in shame, having resorted to thinking of his close friends like that. It was for his protection though. He wanted to be safe. 

"We're heading this way."

Finishing the last of his breakfast quietly, he looked up to see Athos leading his horse to the left of the fork into a densely wooded area, but remembering how often Athos had looked at the map on their way here, he trusted him enough to follow. Aramis did not.

"There's a smaller path on the right. It's easier than this one." Aramis pointed to the other side, where a river was flowing quietly. D'artagnan glanced back between Athos and Aramis, feeling a shift in the air. This wouldn't happen  _now,_ would it?

"No, we're going here. The other would take days to reach Paris." Athos turned again, not bothering to look Aramis in the eye as he started making his way down his path.

D'artagnan was stuck in the middle of the fork, not liking how much that seemed to infuriate Aramis more.

"We're already going to take a few days getting there _anyway._ Why aren't we going down that path?" Aramis waved down to the river again, eye's never leaving Athos' back. 

Athos stopped again, but didn't turn. He sighed, crossing his arms as he continued facing his path."Because I just told you we aren't."

"Who the hell decided _you_ should be in charge?" Aramis was getting frustrated, leading his horse towards Athos. D'artgnan could feel his heart beating faster, knowing the fire was about to spread. He saw how quickly the fight started between Aramis and Porthos. It was a little like Deja Vu, brothers fighting brothers in rage.

"I'm the less _moronic_ of the choices in this group." Athos turned his head and looked at Aramis with a glare he usually reserved for the Red Guards. A mix of patronizing and annoyance, and nothing that was going to help Aramis blow off steam.

D'artagnan's heart lept, knowing he'd only have a few seconds before weapons were drawn.

Aramis sneered, making his way towards Athos faster. "You know-"

" _Wait!_ " D'artagnan raced his horse between the two, deciding it was safer to have his back to Athos than the one currently reaching for his sword. "Aramis, if we go down that path, we'll run out rations." He saw Aramis glance behind him and he begged whatever God was listening to his thoughts would make sure there was no weapon being held up to the back of his head. He took in a small breath, shrugging his shoulder to hide his shaking hands. "Let's just follow Athos."

Aramis glared at him, but said no more as Athos began leading again, going second in line as Porthos got closer. D'artagnan nearly fell off his horse as Porthos elbowed him, hissing out "Suck up." before following the others. As he felt his pulse slow to a calm rhythm, he made a decision. It wasn't going to matter how much they did to him, he was going to keep them all safe, whether from attackers or each other. He was going to make sure his brothers got to Paris in one piece and get help from Treville. He could do this, no matter what happened to him.

After a few minutes, D'artagnan deemed it calm enough to talk to Athos about this. He hadn't done anything to make him angry yet, so he was trying his luck. Riding up to his mentor, he tried to ignore the glares launched at him as he slowed next to Athos. His friend didn't react, but he didn't lash out either, so that was better than nothing. "Athos-"

"Not now, D'artagnan." He cut off, still facing forward.

"Are-"

"Go to the back.  _Now._ " Athos began pinching the bridge of his nose, like he always did when he had headaches. There was no way possible to continue if he was able to reason with him.

"Okay..." He probably sounded as defeated and downhearted as he was feeling inside. D'artagnan nodded and slowed until he was behind the group again, looking at the setting sun, dreading how close nightfall was. He'd have to be able to survive the night and make sure the others survived as well.  _I can do this...I'll keep them safe from each other..._


	5. Third time's not always the charm

The cold was getting to D'artagnan's throat, clearing his throat as he fidgeted with the spare branches and sticks for the fire. Reaching the group, D'artagnan felt his breath catch in his sore throat when he only saw two figures at the camp. Quickly dropping the pile by the fire he walked up to Aramis, now brushing his horse. "Where's..."

He couldn't help letting his voice drift off when he saw Aramis look annoyed. Nevertheless, he'd promised himself that he'd keep the three of them close by and unharmed. "Where's Athos?"

Aramis let out a cruel laugh, turning back to his horse. "Don't know, and frankly don't really care either. Nothing but an annoyance." He muttered, not wanting to continue talking. D'artagnan frowned, but shook it off and decided to try his luck again. Porthos was lying against a log, looking overall very calm and tired. Maybe it would work with him.

"Porthos, do you know-"

Another glare made him stop in his tracks. Porthos rolled over and covered his face with his hat, leaving D'artagnan with nothing but the sound of the fire crackling. D'artagnan crossed his arms tightly in frustration, before letting his shoulders droop in defeat.  _No use making him pissed..._ Turning around and and retrieving his jacket from his horse, knowing it wouldn't be as warm out farther away from the fire. Taking a step, he hesitated but returned back to Aramis, who was taking stock of his medical supplies again.

"I'm gonna look for Athos..."  D'artagnan said warily, leaning in an attempt to make eye contact with him.  A grunt was replied, then nothing more. _Did he even care?_ D'artagnan glanced back at the campfire, watching as it began to die down. "Do you mind keeping it lit until I come back?" He took a step back, showing he was about to go.

Aramis finally let his focus leave his supplies and turned his attention to D'artagnan, rolling his eyes as he saw him walking away cautiously, back never being shown. "Why not? Been saving all of your asses so far, why not just keeping working till I drop?" Aramis scoffed, picking up pieces of fire wood and tossing it into the fire. D'artagnan said nothing, and walked out into the dark forest.

* * *

He found him sitting by an empty field, staring out at nothing and fidgeting with his hands. D'artagnan's steps were quiet, careful not to take Athos by surprise. Taking a few steps towards him, he was a few feet away and thought it safer to be with some space between them just incase. "Athos."

He didn't know if he really saw him flinch, but Athos quickly put his head in his hands. " _What?_ " Exasperation ringing off his tone loudly in the quiet night. 

"You'll get lost if you go too far from the group."

"Please, unlike you I'm not worried about losing people." He still had his head down, he looked in _pain?_ Was he okay?

Were _any_ of them okay?

"I still think-"

"Oh, forgive me I did not know you were capable of thinking." Athos snapped, head finally lifted of his palms. "Any other talents you can amaze the world with? Breathing through your nose? Hmm?" Athos stood from the ground and brushed past him.

D'artagnan couldn't take it anymore, it's barely been a day and everything just felt so _wrong_  and he just felt so done with it all. He just wanted to yell, to scream at them to wake up and be normal again, be  _brothers_ again. Which was what he started doing. "What _happened_ to all of you? One night we have each other's backs and the next you're all at each other's throats."

"And why do you think this concerns _you?"_ Athos sneered, turning around. 

"We're _friends."_ D'artagnan argued, leaning in in the heat of his anger. It didn't matter to him if he got hit or injured, if it made Athos recognize their friendship even if only just for a matter of seconds, it would be worth it. They were friends. What else _mattered_ now?

"Oh good lord, boy I don't think you _understand._ You aren't a musketeer."

D'artagnan swallowed, comment hitting him close to home. He'd heard this before, many times before. Yet hearing _him_ say it...was worse than he'd actually imagined it. His voice hitch slightly and he hoped his voice didn't sound as hurt as he felt. "Not yet."

That strengthened the flames. Athos shook his head, letting out a short yet cruel laugh as he ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, well I'm sure you can remind me of this argument in _several_ years once you might actually deemed _worthy_ of that title. Until then, you'll just be following us around constantly like a dog on the streets won't you?"

D'artagnan felt sick and cold. The comment felt like he'd just been slapped, maybe stabbed in the back. He could feel his determination collapsing within himself, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. This wasn't happening. His spirit was crumbling, being battered down with each word barked out of Athos. He was sure his knuckles were turning white by how hard his hands were bunched into fists at his sides. Whether from hurt or frustration, he never knew. Maybe both. "We both know you don't mean that, Athos. Please, just come with me and-"

"Don't _mean_ that? Is that your way of ignoring the truth?" Athos' voice rang out in a shrill contrast to calm night. "You aren't a musketeer...You are a _farm boy_ who decided to chase the wildest dream just because you had no one to cling onto, like the _child_ you are, once you left your father six feet under the cold ground!" His face seemed to be twisting into a grimace, shoulders tense. "Do you even know what your cause for fighting as a musketeer _is?_ Or did you simply think of it as just a game of dress up? You're a _danger_ to us. Can't you see no one here wants you constantly following them around?" D'artagnan readied himself to fight back, but couldn't. He felt hopeless and defeated. "Why is it you have no other friends besides us, then?"

D'artagnan's lowered his eyes, not being able to bear to see the annoyance. His eyes were stinging, lump rising in his already sore throat. His hands tightened at his sides, trembling ever so slightly. He missed his friends. Missed his brothers. Everything was missing now. 

"When you finally have a valid point in any of this, you can come to the camp. Don't bother waking me if I'm asleep by the time you _manage_ to get back."

He didn't bother looking up to see Athos walk away. He knew he wouldn't see any comfort. Biting his lip to keep it from shaking, he glanced back at the field finally deciding to sit down and try to regain his composure.

He couldn't.

He broke down as quietly as he could, not wanting anyone to hear him crying to himself. Not wanting them to hear him and come to insult him any further. What was happening to them, why was everything so wrapped in trust and caring replaced with nothing but a bitter irritability? Part of him was in denial, frantically repeating the phrase  _He didn't mean it, none of them do,_ while the other simply thought of everything else that had happened. The threats, abuse, and using his own  _father_ against him were getting to be too much.  _Are they even going to want me to go back to the Garrison with them?_ D'artagnan thought quietly as he pulled his knees to his chest, wiping away the tears left over with his jacket sleeve. Taking in a deep breath, he slowly got to his feet and cleared his throat, hesitating before heading for their camp, but then he heard it. _  
_

God, thinking back to this point he'd deeply wished he'd told himself that it was a trick of the wind, that his mind was playing tricks on him after the argument with Athos. But he was too _stubborn_ and froze at the sound, looking around in confusion when he'd heard it.

A giggle.


	6. Why didn't they come?

 He looked around the now deserted forest, wondering if he'd really heard that. There was nothing but the silent breeze brushing past and flowing through the field. "Who's there?" D'artagnan called out, now suddenly wishing he'd had the idea of bringing at least his _sword_ with him. Empty handed and unarmed, he stood tense, listening closely to make sure he wasn't about to be attacked. Or at least taken by surprise by his attacker. The sound of a branch snapping behind him made him turn back to face the forest, light from the camp illuminating about a little of his surroundings as the moonlight peeking through the leaves.

"Come out. I'm not playing this game." He called out again, seeing his breath rise like fog in the cold night. The temperature was dropping slowly, but he was warmed by the adrenaline running its course. His eyes adjusted weakly to the dark of the trees, mind playing tricks on the shadows collected in front of him. He heard a grunt as something large crept behind him.

He turned sharply, hands raised in self defense ready to attack his horse.

His _horse?_

His shoulders and fists fell, as his horse shook its mane in its approach. " _You..."_ D'artagnan let out a laugh as walked up to his companion and petted his horse's face fondly, glancing back at the fields behind him. Buttercup was attempting to make her way into the field, only stopping after D'artagnan held a steady grip on the horse. "Don't do that, Buttercup. Why are you away from the camp, huh?" Spotting the untied reigns around the horses neck, he blamed himself for not focusing himself a little more on Buttercup, but decided it was to be allowed after everything happening right now. He hummed into the Buttercup's neck, tying the loosened reigns firmly to make sure they wouldn't allow the horse to stray from the group again. "I'll just do this and..." He drifted off, spotting the white cloth peeking through the grass in the middle of the field behind him. He was mesmerized by the sight, believing it to be his imagination until he saw it sway as the breeze softly ran over the material. Letting his arms fall from his horse, he was determined to investigate.  D'artagnan tied Buttercup to a low hanging branch, trying as best he could with out looking at the knot and keeping his focus on the white fluttering between the plants.

Stepping into the field, it seemed like a dream. Unreal as he walked quietly with the moon behind him. Getting closer, his brow furrowed when he saw the girl laying there, the white he had seen being the hem of her dress. "Miss?" Maybe she had been the one to laugh? She was staring quietly into the stars, hair pooled neatly around her. She didn't seem to care when D'artagnan walked up. "Miss, are you alright?" She didn't move, calm faced and relaxed as she continued looking fondly at the sky. D'artagnan was getting goosebumps. Something was... _off._

He took a few wary steps closer. "Are you-"  _Empty._

He knew that look deep within her eyes. That empty, faraway look he'd seen before, in enemies, friends, _family._ He knew how the eyes looked once they were void of life. Its how they were right now. He knew she'd been dead for sometime, judging by how cold she was to the touch, no longer having the life warm her from within. She wasn't bloody, no fresh wounds but how...? "Aramis." D'artagnan breathed out, knowing the older musketeer would know what to do. He may have been learning a few tricks about first aid...but nothing like this.

Kneeling by her corpse, he looked back at where the camp was, about 300 feet away from him and the body. He knew he had to shout for help, find out what the hell what the hell was happening all together.They would most likely hear him if he called for them, wouldn't they? "Hel-"

Something hit him, made him stagger back so quickly he didn't recognize the pain. 

Then it felt like he was on fire. Mutely falling to the ground, he stumbled back and that's when he saw it. This pain, so familiar to when he was shot, was something new. He hadn't been hit by a bullet. A bullet would either go through him completely or disappear within him and have to be dug out. A bullet would _not_  be sticking out of him the way this was. He'd been shot with an arrow, like game. Like if he had been _hunted._ His hand shook as it made it's way towards the arrow, flinching back when a single touch made it impossible to breathe. He looked up shakily towards the camp, debating whether or not he'd have enough strength in him to run to them before he collapsed and finding that his throat felt like sand had been poured in.

"Don't. That's not fair."

He looked up, dazed to the figure slowly walking towards the body. "W-what?" He couldn't believe it.His head was pounding, could feel his pulse in his stomach around the arrow, but he'd recognized him. He'd seen those hazel eyes before, the messy hair and nervous frame. _Back at the inn..._ "You're..."  _The boy from the inn?_ "...the boy...?"

 _"Lucas...I'm no boy!"_ He scowled, thin form hunched over and gripping a crossbow tightly in his hands. He looked down to where the girl's body remained, taking a deep breath before turning back to D'artagnan, face seething with anger. "You ruined our evening!" The boy lowered his crossbow, shoulders shaking as he walked around the corpse. "This was  _OUR_ evening!"

D'artagnan weakly pushed himself off the ground, finding that his mouth was becoming drier by the second. His head felt muddled and the pain in his stomach was getting worse...making his movements slower than he ever wanted. "'thos..." He sucked in a breath, determined to scream as a warning siren to alert his friends. Lucas was tossing the crossbow, stomping over to D'artagnan as he tried crawling backwards away from the lunatic and back to camp. "Porthos..." His voice was getting back to as normal as he could, finding whatever strength within himself to fight back. He screamed when Lucas launch himself.

"Porthos... _Aramis_!" He cried out in pain, hitting the ground again violently after Lucas kicked him back. His breath was slammed out of him and he grunted to get back to his feet after seeing Lucas rush to pick up a large rock.  _No, no no no no...._ D'artagnan fought, Lucas pinning him and bringing the rock down with all his strength. D'artagnan was squirming in his grip, desperate to free himself and make it back to the others, no longer caring if they hated him or not. Just wanting the comfort of at least seeing them again.

"Stop it! Stop it right _now!"_ Lucas hissed, missing D'artagnan's head many times in his struggle. His eyes were crazed, making D'artagnan feel like this fight could very well be his last. He wasn't going able to get away, not with him being hit with the arrow so deeply.

His heart was pumping rapidly, adrenaline making the wound the least of his problems. His breath was hitching but he was going to fight no matted how wounded he was." _Don't!_ " If he was going to die...  _He was going to die?_ He sucked in another breath and started yelling again as Lucas held his neck still, skin flaring as he grasped the bruises tightly. " _Athos!_  " D'artagnan pulled at Lucas's hands with his fading strength, trying to be free from this nightmare. He saw Lucas raise the rock, silhouetted in the moonlight. He never saw it come down as he stole one last glace into the direction of the camp. _"Ath-"_

He felt plain spike in a white flash, then nothing.


	7. I want to go back home

_The smell of lavender? The field never had flowers did it?_

The sound of fire crackling was what brought him back to his senses and out of his muddled dreams. Struggling to open his eyes, his vision focused on the small blood spots on the stone floor underneath him and he cursed, remembering the impact of the forest floor as his was beaten. D'artagnan was laying on his side now, and finding his arms tied behind his back and his legs tied as well, too tight to be able to break himself free like he had back in the tunnels under the palace.

_Where's Porthos, Aramis and..._

"Ath's?..." The words slurred as they left his mouth into the rage tied between his lips, eyes sliding closed briefly before he had the strength to open them again. He shivered as a brisk wind wafted over him, goosebumps riddling his skin. Rolling onto his back in order to pull himself to a sitting position, he hadn't even gotten his shoulders fully off the floor before a fire burned from his stomach. It was impossible to breathe as the mangled scream ripped itself from his sore throat, lungs constricting as the memory shot though his mind. He screwed his eyes hut, remembered everything, every detail, every harsh and gruesome image like a slap to the face as he gasped for air. The young girl dead in the field, him calling out but having no one answer, the sickening thud breaking the silence in the dead of night. Falling to the grassy floor, body screaming as he looked to his side and saw the arrow sticking out of him like a hunted animal. D'artagnan gulped for air, feeling the walls around him start closing in as he lifted his head to see the arrow still protruding from his side. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on a bird call he heard in the distance

_Calm, just remain calm...need to leave, I can't do that if I end up losing consciousness again_

Sucking in a stuttered breath, he reluctantly opened his eyes and looked around him, hoping to somehow recognize his surroundings. Everything was dimly lit thanks to the small furnace across the room. The walls seemed to be made of an earthy material, maybe he'd been taken underground? There were cupboards on the walls, a dark wood same as the king used on the stairs leading up and the beams supporting the ceiling. The faint smell of lavender was coming from the corner of the room, where a basket was filled to the brim with the flowers.  _Where am I?_ D'artagnan let his head fall back onto the ground, not wanting to lose all his energy at once. His head was killing him, and he didn't think it was water that was making his hair stick to him like that. He knew he wasn't going to bleed out immediately, since he wasn't laying in a puddle and the object was still lodged inside him. How long he would last like this is another question entirely. The wood began creaking, and he knew someone was coming. Then he heard Lucas, sounding as calm as someone who had done nothing wrong.

"Morning." Lucas looked over at D'artagnan casually, as if he was in the same room as a customer and not someone he had taken hostage. His arms filled with several blankets and flowers, he calmly stepped into the basement, watching his steps as he went down the stairs. D'artagnan sluggishly tried to give him a cold stare, mustering up any courage he could find to keep himself sane. His attempts failed. Lucas had simply shrugged and turned to a cupboard near the door, working as if it were any other day, placing another bundle of lavender into the barrel. "I understand what this feels like, though you may disagree."

D'artagnan had stopped himself from rolling his eyes, feeling the headache begin to grow stronger with each movement. _Worse than last time..._ He thought to himself, closing his eyes as a small wave of nausea struck him. The smell of lavender overwhelmed his senses again. Lucas had tossed another large bundle by D'artagnan's head, sweet scent beginning to turn putrid, almost suffocating. He breathed deeply into the rag, grimacing as he turned his head away from the flowers.

"My father had always kept me away from sight. H-had me inside at all times, in my room every day and so forth. I hated it, just wanted to spend as much time with him as my younger brother did." Lucas ranted on, putting away the fresh sheets into a cupboard near the door. The from the furnace was dim enough so that it reduced the pounding D'artagnan felt in his temples, and he was thankful for that small treasure. "They never liked me as much as they cared for each other. They paid no attention to me." He watched cautiously as Lucas began forcing the rest of the folded sheets into the small cupboard, frustration seeming to radiate off him. "Wasn't fair, you understand? So I figured out a certain drink mixed with a few herbs worked perfectly. It took sometime, finding the right ingredients, but it worked. All that love they had, twisted into a hate and they finally killed each other."

Lucas's head snapped back to D'artagnan's direction, causing him to flinch and turn away involuntarily at the cold, emotionless stare that pierced him from the other end of the room.

"It wasn't fair what they did to me, they _deserved_ it." Lucas's gaze dropped to the floor, hands folding into fists, shaking slightly as he brought them to his head. His hands clutched at his hair as he paced back and forth around the room, D'artagnan's eyes following his movement. "They shouldn't have t-treated me like that, was their fault...their fault. Not me, them...Their fault." Lucas seemed to regain a bit of lucidity, facing D'artagnan again as his steps slowed to a stop. His grin was anything but warming as he kneeled in front of D'artagnan, lifting his chin so he had no choice but to look at him."You aren't much fun, I hope you understand that. Rose was fun." Lucas looked up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts as the smile grew on his face. His dreamy look seemed to glaze over his eyes, as if he'd been drugged. "Very fun, it was _bliss._ I always enjoyed spending time with her."

D'artagnan shuddered as he recalled finding her in that small patch of grass. Cold. Unmoving. Staring through him with a look of sadness. A sigh brought him back to the present, away from the eyes that never saw him.

"We were going to rest under the stars. She liked watching stars from her window until..." D'artgnan glanced up as Lucas's voice faded, his dreamy look replaced with something he could only describe as a mix of shock and confusion. Another cool breeze creeped in from underneath the wooden doors, causing the light to flicker again. Fear brought goosebumps over his skin as Lucas turned to face him, face hardened and furious. The cold stare was back on him, only this time there was complete rage behind them, fire burning in his eyes. "You...You ruined our evening. It's your fault she's still out there. You spoiled everything for me!" Lucas launched himself at D'artagnan, who could only muffle a yelp as his legs were pinned down, Lucas sitting on him and throwing rough punches.

Although it may have actually only been a minute or two, the beating seemed to have lasted around a lifetime, luckily on the other side of D'artagnan's already pulsing wound. His breath was repeatedly shoved out of his lungs each time Lucas's fist collided against his ribs, pummeling him into the dirty floor. "It's all _your_  fault! You did this, not me! You were meant to dine with your friends, not _sleep_ through the night like some weakling!"

The hits were getting dangerously close to the arrow, sharp pain leaving him gasping into the gag as the punches grew closer. He inched over as quickly as he could to get closer to Lucas's right, so that the hits could be focused on the unpunctured side. The hits were slowly becoming more bearable, although he knew breathing deeply later on would be a problem, guessing from the pain forming around his ribs.

"You're the idiot, left alone now with the rest of them gone or dead! It was meant for _all_ of you! Your fault, not mine!" Lucas gripped D'artagnan by his shirt and yanked him upward and into a half sitting up position, ignoring his strangled cry as the arrow shifted uncomfortably in the wound. Raising his hand as though to slap him, Lucas paused as he noticed the strange color D'artagnan's neck was, hidden underneath his rugged collar. Removing his grasp from D'artagnan's neck and placing a hand under his chin to lift his head for a closer inspection, he pried the shirt fabric away from the old wound, and began touching the darkened bruises.

D'artagnan flinched, feeling the soreness of his injuries as Lucas began poking and prodding them, pulling away his collar to get a closer look. Realization seemed to have struck him, he flung D'artagnan back onto the hard floor as if he were made of fire. The impact immediately forced any air out of D'artagnan's lungs as he hacked into the ragged cloth in his mouth, beginning to curl in on himself with each cough and trying desperately to look back at Lucas, who looked frozen in time. His eyes were wide, and looked at him with... _guilt?_

"You, you had this b-before I...? They did...the _d-drink_ did... I-I?" Lucas backed away slowly, shock beginning to spread across his face as he retreated into the shadows of the candlelit room. Light flickered across his features as he started shaking, hands rising to cover his face as he mumbled into them, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. D'artagnan let out a long, wavering sigh and felt his shoulders droop down, extremely exhausted. _Have I finally found a moment of clarity in Lucas? He looks like he did when we first met him back in the cottage..._ Then, the smallest of noises echoed in the rooms and D'artagnan felt his heart plummet into the cold ground.

_I...I heard it wrong, no he couldn't possibly-_

It was a laugh.

Lucas was _laughing,_ the same demented giggle he'd heard back in the field. One cruel and uncaring.

"You didn't even realize it, did you?" Arthur shook hard, laughing inconsolably and gripping the wooden beams for support to remain upright. The sick, twisted look had returned in the back of his eyes, cutting through D'artagnan as his stomach churned at the thought of the painful hits coming back again. Lucas wiped away tears that were falling freely down his face, whether out of the laughter or from earlier D'artagnan wasn't sure. Lucas came close again, grinning when he saw D'artagnan struggle to inch away as he crouched down by his captive. He held onto D'artagnan's shoulder with a fierce grip, immobilizing him at Lucas's side as he continued on. "It's very funny, now that I think about it. My drink would never lead people to get _that_   violent on their own, agitated yes, but never without shove or whispered insult by me! And yet now that I'm looking at _you,_ there's pain I didn't cause! It's not my fault, they're to blame as well, can't you see it? I never did anything to cause them to hurt you like this..." Lucas leaned over to run his hand through D'artagnan's hair, still lightly plastered down to his face now from the cold sweat he was in.

D'artagnan shut his eyes, turning his head away as he tried to calm his trembling shoulders, breathing heavily though the gag. He'd rather stay in the darkness of his mind and lost in his thoughts, rather than having to focus on his current situation. "My father and brother, I made them hate each other. I gave them the option. to , with a little drop in their wine before bed." D'artagnan willed himself to ignore the feeling of strange fingers petting his head fondly and thought back to the past laughing in the garrison and thought of Constance but couldn't escape this hell. Chilled fear trickled down his spine as he felt a hot breath in his ear and the whispered "They _wanted_ to do this to you. It was their choice too, I only gave them the opportunity."

They must have drunk the same wine as Lucas' father and brother. That's why, they didn't really hate him. D'artagnan struggled to convince himself that none of this was because of him being an annoyance. _The bread and cheese..._ He thought, opening his eyes in realization.  _If they really hated me, why had they left me food instead of eating it themselves?_ They didn't hate him. They couldn't, not after everything they'd been through together. He grunted as Lucas patted his head and made his head injury flare in his temple, muttering a quiet "See you in the morning." D'artagnan sighed, very much preferring being left to his thoughts than spending another minute in the company of the cruel young man again. His eyes slid closed, having exhausted himself with having to stay conscious any longer but lifted his eyelids when he didn't hear the wooden stairs creak.  
Lucas was walking back, shuffling across the floor in the nervous manner he'd had back when they first met him at the Inn. "You don't deserve it. I can help."  
D'artagnan raised an eyebrow in confusion as Lucas went to the furnace.

To get a fire poker.

Rag muffling his grunts of defiance, he struggled in vain to get further away from Lucas, now approaching him with the poker in hand. He was pinned again, eyes wide as Lucas tore and lifted his shirt to find the arrow. As soon as Lucas had touched it D'artagnan saw white and felt the freezing burn shoot through him and he heard a snap. Wearily looking down to his stomach's side he searched for the end of the arrow but saw nothing but the broken wood in Lucas' hand. _....Broken...?_ The hot poker was pressed down instantly, and D'artagnan was into a frantic squirming, screaming into the rag as he desperately tried to breathe again. He vaguely felt the arm holding him down allow him to drop limply to the floor, gasps muffled as fought with him self to stay conscious. 

"There. You're _welcome._ Now you don't have to look at it."

D'artagnan let his eyes wander to his side, seeing nothing but burned skin and the smell was too much to bear. It had mingled into the scent of the lavender and D'artagnan gagged. He heard the wood creak this time, but no longer cared. It was easier to just give in to his exhaustion then to try to survive this awake any longer. He had to get himself out of here. Even if he never saw his brothers again.  _He had to survive._


	8. What have we done

He didn't know why birds always decided to sing in the mornings. He'd usually think nothing of it, finding it soothing in a way. It was way of nature telling him he must rise.

_And he had never wanted to murder a bird this much before in his life._

Wincing at the shrill chirps and whistling, Athos finally stirred, becoming immediately aware that he was slumped over bush and clutching his weapons, head pounding with no indication of stopping. There was no way he was sober enough to be able to think that a _shrub_ was a good replacement for a bed. "What..." He groaned, trying to push himself off the leaves and branches, feeling too warm and uncomfortable. His eyes screamed at him when he squinted and looked at the sunlight piercing through the trees around him, making him feel dazed. "Where...?" His foot caught on the bushes roots, causing him to stumble back from the bush and crash down onto the ground, the sudden loud sound of scraping and clanging metal making him feel like he was just shot in the head.

"For the love of all the good in the world, don't do that again."

Athos lifted his head and saw Aramis lying face first in the ground a few feet away, eyes shut but brows furrowed. This had to be the worst feeling they'd ever had, like a horrible combination of a hangover and migraine with a pinch of food poisoning. Aramis let out a long sigh as he slowly sat back on his heels, running a hand over his face. "I don't know what we did, but let's never do it again."

Athos hummed in agreement, sitting up after it seemed like the world had finally decided to stop moving. He'd shut his eyes in an attempt to save himself from having to look at anything bright. "All in favor?" He muttered as ran a hand through his hair.

"Aye." Porthos' hand shot up from behind the log, in a tight thumb's up before falling back down limply. He was lying next to log and was blinking slowly, wishing he were unconscious again. His stomach felt like he'd decided to eat everything rotten and moldy that he could find. This had to be the absolute worst hangover he'd ever had,  _including_ the time he'd woken up to someone trying to harvest his organ back in the early days of the Court of Miracles. He let a small groan, keeping a hand on his stomach and used the other to pull himself upright. He couldn't help but let out a laugh when he was greeted by the sight of the other two looking like absolute  _shit._   "Worse than the drinks back in Gentilly, ain't it D'artagnan?" He smiled, scanning his surroundings for his friend.

No one answered.

Porthos called out again, senses slowly coming back to him as he managed to stay on his feet for a minute. "D'artagnan?" Birds were still chirping and the rustling leaves didn't make them feel any calmer as no one responded again. Their camp was empty, save for the horses eyeing their riders attempting to stand on shaky legs. The others were soon realizing it was too quiet for their youngest to be with them.

Athos began immediately getting to his feet, hand gripping onto the bush he'd used as a bed before and searched the area surrounding their camp. Though his legs felt like they were as weak as toddler's, he paid no mind as he started slowly making his way through the forest. He motioned to Porthos now getting to his feet, and pointed back at Aramis who'd fallen over again after trying to stand on his own. "Get him up- _D'artagnan?"_ Athos yelled as he walked off into the trees.

Porthos pulled Aramis to his feet, rubbing his sore neck. His head was slowly becoming less cloudy, whether from the situation or the panic of losing one of their own. "Were we drugged?"

Aramis nodded halfhearted, keeping a firm grip on Porthos' arm until he finally regained his balanced. "Definitely feels like it." He looked up to Porthos' confused stare and waved him off. "Trust me I know. Had something slipped in my food several times before."

"What'd we eat?" Porthos, crossed his arms as he started walking alongside Aramis, both trying to locate Athos, who'd gone off in his search without them.

Aramis shrugged, keeping his eyes ready to focus on any movement with in the trees. "I'd think nothing recently..."

"Dartagnan's missing." Athos called out, stepping out behind a few boulders. The look of panic was evident in his eyes and the other two shared a look.  _Something happened. Something bad._ "There were no tracks, so he couldn't have gotten far. I don't think it was an attack, seeing as we all still have our lives." Athos led them back to the horses, ready to spread his search into over drive but froze when Porthos stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, facing the other way. "What?" Athos turned, scanning the forest again.

"You hear that?"

All Athos was hearing was the wind, some birds, and D'artagnan's time ticking away the more they spent sight seeing. So  _no._ He didn't hear anything. "We can't waste time-"

"Wait, listen..." Aramis held a finger to his lips, leaves rustling under him as he turned to find the source of whatever it was they were hearing-

Athos heard it.

The unmistakable sound of a horse huffing. They'd all come to recognize that sound immediately, having grown close to their own horses after so many missions and nights in the stables before turning in. Which wouldn't be that big of a deal if they we're on alert for any enemies, or catching up with another ally. But they weren't. They were trying to find a lost brother. Athos turned back to their own horses counting only three huddled together and grazing what they could.  _There were only three._

"S'not mine. Or yours, either." Porthos whispered, still trying to pin point the exact direction the noise was coming from.

"You think D'artagnan...?" Aramis drifted off, hearing the huff again and pointing silently to where he heard it. The others nodded, slowly making their way towards him.

"Could be. Weapons ready, I don't want any surprises."Athos whispered, handing out their swords and pistols. If something had happened, he wasn't going to let anyone get away while he still had a drop of life in him. Anything could happen, considering how lost and confused they had all felt upon waking on the forest ground.

"Horse is nearby, I can hear it." Aramis whispered, stepping cautiously towards the edge of the forest and spotting the field. The sound of wood snapping rang out loudly, making every other noise in the forest become muted in those few seconds as a horse came sprinting towards them. "Watch out!" Aramis shoved Athos back, taking both of them down and out of the horses line of charging.

Porthos managed to snag what remained of the horses reigns as the horse began trotting in circles around them, whining loudly. "Easy girl, easy..." He slowly approached, calming the horse down within a few seconds, petting her neck softly. Athos helped Aramis get to his feet, letting out deep breath as he nodded in thanks. Porthos was whispering into the now calm horses neck as he led her to the other two. "Where's D'artagnan, Buttercup?" He retied the torn reigns and frowned at Athos heading towards him. "He wouldn't just leave 'er here, cares too much about the damn horse." Porthos patted Buttercup's neck, glancing at Aramis to make sure he was uninjured as well.

Aramis was looking out into the field, spotting _something_ glittering for a few seconds in the suns rays. Cuiousity getting the better of him, he wandered off as Athos continued talking to Porthos, checking to make sure all of D'artagnan's belongings were still in his saddle bags. Nothing had been stolen, since the boy had rarely kept _anything_ in the bags. "Good point. So where...?"

"Athos."

He turned and caught the jacket thrown at him out of sheer reflex, but felt dread stirring inside when he recognized the leather. It was his. D'artagnan's jacket was in the middle of a field and had been ripped along the side. "He's been taken."

Porthos took the tan leather out of Athos' hands, inspecting it and freezing when he saw the stains lining the tears on the side. Wiping some of the stains as best he could on his fingers, he grimaced when he recognized the liquid. "And injured from the look of it. Where'd you find this?" Following Aramis to the middle of the field, his hands tightened to fists when he'd noticed the bloodied rock by some cloth and a wine bottle. "But I don't remember bein' ambushed or separated." He handed the jacket back to Athos, who simply returned it to Aramis and crouched to look at the items on the floor instead. "You?"

Aramis shook his head, face darkened as he ran a thumb over the blood stained jacket. What could he _honestly_ remember? Last thing he could think of was getting pelted with blankets after Porthos got D'artagnan to bed. "Actually, I can't remember anything besides falling asleep back in that inn..."

"How far are we from there?" 

Aramis and Porthos looked down at Athos' back, noting how tense he looked. Aramis brow furrowed, bringing a hand to his chin before finally being able to think clearly again. "About a day, I think? Why what-"

Athos stood and turned, all but shoving the wine bottle into their hands. His eyes were furious, but his voice remained steady. "Where else have we seen this?"

Porthos's eyes ran over the labeling, immediately recognizing the crest stamped onto the bottle's lettering like something out of a nightmare. Everything was coming together, the memory loss, the random act of 'kindness' by a man they never _saw,_ the horrible headaches and soreness.  _We drank that wine. We were drugged._ "Isn't that..."

"The last thing we had eaten was the gift from the Innkeeper." Aramis muttered, glancing back at the bottle. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at Athos's hardened stare, as realization hit him. He smacked himself in the head lightly, "D'artagnan never touched the wine." He groaned, mind racing to try to figure out what the  _hell_ ad happened. His thoughts were desperately trying to fill in the banks as Athos nodded and threw the wine bottle down, feeling joy at seeing the damned thing break into pieces and disappear.

"Lucas." Athos muttered, spinning on his heel and hurrying back to camp. The others followed suit as they made their way to camp. "Get the horses." Athos called out, picking up the rest of his gear from the ground where it was hidden under the bush. He raised a hand to get Aramis' attention and pointed at Buttercup, who'd made her way back into camp after following the familiar musketeers. " _All_ of them _."_ Aramis nodded as he climbed onto his own horse and made a knot to connect the two horses reigns together. Athos pulled on his hat, waiting for his friends to be ready to ride out as quickly as possible. "We're going back." Athos said grimly, one hand clutching onto the torn jacket folded on his lap. They stormed off into the Inn's direction, recognizing the trail when they found it and rushing to make it back in time.  _He's going to be okay._

_He has to be okay._


	9. Fire with fire

"No one comes by anymore." Lucas tossed another piece of firewood into the furnace, mindlessly chatting without facing D'artagnan. He glanced back, to make sure he was still awake then continued, "Not after Rose disappeared and my father and brother died. It gets a little lonely..."  Lucas stopped his actions and stayed still, watching the fire crackle and wood break from the heat. "I have no one to talk to."

D'artagnan heaved in a shaky breath from behind the rag, eyes slowly closing and opening as he tried to follow Luca's movements. He'd been propped up against the wall sometimes during unconsciousness and fortunately was granted the mercy of having his hands _in front_ of him. He knew Lucas was trying to 'chat' but he was just focused on listening to his own sluggish heartbeat. He didn't care anymore, he hurt. He hurt _so_ bad and he just wanted to stop feeling everything. Just closing his eyes made him think of being safe, whispering love into Constance's neck, having the time of his life on missions surrounded by friends...The past always is painful when its nicer than the present. He let out a weak grunt when Lucas pulled him upright, not even noticing when he'd started sliding down to the floor.

"It's not polite to not look at someone when they're speaking, you know that?" Lucas glared, pushing him against the cool wall, making D'artagnan's head turn to mush.

His head stung rapidly and he'd opened his eyes again, dazed into consciousness again. He looked up to finally see Lucas come into focus again. "Wake up." He felt like he was about to pass out again, but had adrenaline burst in the few seconds he'd seen Lucas reach for him. Holding his breath, he'd waited for the worst but let out a cough when the Rag was finally removed from his mouth. "There you are, now you'll talk." Lucas said, walking back to pick up a small bucket.

D'artagnan cleared his throat, licking his dry lips and finding his actions useless. "W-Why?" He coughed, watching Lucas return.

Instantly he was bathed in freezing water, shock coursing through him rapidly and he felt his pulse quickening. He shook his head, the freezing water was making his headache from before worse, but he was more alert now. Lucas grinned as he patted D'artagnan's head, putting the bucket back into one of the cupboards. "I remember doing this keeps you alive a little longer. Seems to work." He called back to the shivering D'artagnan. He walked back and placed a candle by D'artagnan, before grimacing when he noticed how dusted the covers behind D'artagnan were. He walked around him, and began muttering to himself.

D'artagnan wan't looking at that.

He was looking at the fire poker that was hidden under another table cover,  _right next to him._

This was his chance. His  _one_ chance to get out and there was no way in hell that he was going to let that pass by. He glanced back at Lucas, struggling to get the covers out from underneath a fallen box. D'artagnan stretched his leg out, ignoring how much his stomach screamed at him and placed his heel over the iron, silently dragging it closer. His heart dropped when he realized he wouldn't be able to lean down to pick up the iron by his side, and Lucas snapped beside him.

"Damn, stupid things dusting over. Not my fault the damn customers won't show." The young man kicked a hole into the box, and ripped the covers as much as he could. THe motion had dropped another bow containing more cloth by the candle on the floor and an idea burst through D'artagnan's mind.

D'artagnan took a deep breath, desperately wishing that his plan would work and closed his eyes.

"It is your fault."

Lucas froze mid kick, slowly placing his foot back on the floor and turned his head to look down on D'artagnan. His eyes narrowed. "What did you just tell me?"

"Its... _your_ fault. All of it."

Everything was set into motion and D'artagnan used what he could to prepare himself for his plan.

 _"Liar!"_  Lucas snarled as he launched himself at D'artagnan, narrowly missing as D'artagnan threw himself to the floor and rolled out of his charge. D'artagnan grabbed the iron poker and kicked the candle into the cloth, causing it to catch fire and spread quickly. D'artgnan sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes screwed shut in pain, feeling something tear and became aware of the wound on his side, most likely re opened by the sudden movements. Lucas screamed, running up from the ground towards D'artagnan's back, hoping to pin him and hit him for the damage he'd caused. D'artagnan quickly rolled onto his back and thrust the poker forward, swallowing when it made contact deep into Lucas' stomach. Smoke began filling the room as fire reached one of the beams.

Lucas fell back, clutching the metal coming out of him. Failing in his attempts to breathe deeply. He shot a horrible glared as he staggered back into the floor. "It _hurts!_  Get it _out!_ " He hissed, tears coming down with no sign of stopping. "Look what you did! _You_ did this!" 

D'artgnan coughed, eyes stinging as he slowly got to his feet, and looked down at his arms. He wasn't going anywhere until he was freed and the only sharp item in here was currently deep inside Lucas, who was now cursing violently. "You're the monster! You are! _You are!_ " He cried again, shakily wheezing as the smoke threatened to surround him.

D'artagnan looked away, hoping to ignore as much of this as possible and only focused on getting himself free. He glanced at the flaming beam, and the pit of his stomach felt like dead weight when he realized he had no other choice. Taking step towards the fire, he shut his eyes and put his tied hands forward, sweat beginning to slide down the side of his face.

His breath hitched, and he bit down on his lip, fighting off the urge to scream as the fire began nicking his arms. _I_ _have to get out, need to get out._ His eyes were clenched shut, only magnifying the whimpering gasps coming from the other end of the room and the sound of the fire that had begun spreading to the ceiling. Feeling to burned pieces of rope fall off, he coughed as smoke filled the room and placed a firm hand on his stomach, resonating in pain with each breath. He made it as quickly up the stairs as he could, and knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the fire spread up. The sight of a bedroom being beyond the hell he had been in caused him to falter in his escape, but pushing open the door made his eyes open even wider.

It was the Inn.

This entire time he'd been underneath the Inn, hidden away in the basement. 

* * *

 

Heat was increasing by his back, and he shook off the shock, and he pushed open the Inn door with the strength he had left, walking out into a pitch black outside. His eyes finally adjusted and he could start to make out the tree line, cold air filling his burning lungs as he stumbled down the path to freedom. The throbbing was getting worse, all it took for him to finally begin to re-feel the pain flowing through his veins was the sight of the burning inn. A minute of rest was all he needed.

_Just a minute..._

D'artagnan opened his eyes as he faltered, quickly stopping himself and shaking his head to clear his thoughts. His side throbbed again, and he pressed a quivering hand against it in hopes of dulling the waves of pain to allow him to breathe again. _Need to...leave..._ D'artagnan swallowed, grimacing as his throat, dry as cotton, threatened to constrict and leave him helpless. Forcing his feet to move, he trudged down the path he'd been carried over not so long ago. It was strange, he saw each step as it made its mark in the dirt and yet it felt like he wasn't there, more like he was drifting down a memory. His leg gave out, slipping underneath him awkwardly as he stumbled to the ground.

 _Don't.... don't you dare give up...on me!_  He fought with himself, staggering to his feet, before both legs buckled with the next step. He put his arms out, hoping to at least soften the landing as he crashed onto the floor. His side lashed out, white hot through his chilled skin and he cried out, struggling to curl into himself but finding he had no energy left.

_Move...move!_

He looked at his right hand, curled into a fist next to his face since it was all he could do. The other had remained trapped under his stomach and was beginning to tingle with the pressure. His weak gasps were drowned out by the sound of flames, but he could feel each one as his lungs strained themselves to let him breathe. He blinked hazily, no longer willing to try to push himself off the floor. "'s c-cold..." D'artagnan mumbled, trembling as his body finally began shutting down. He'd finally made it, finally out of the hell that threatened to peel away the life from his body. His strained attempt at a laugh of triumph only barely coming out as a small huff, bringing up a cloud of dirt as he stared into the dense forest in surrounding him. Halfheartedly glancing up at the glistening stars above him, he felt peace remembering the tales his father would tell each time they went out under the stars late into the night, going on about their ancestors and family watching out for them.

_Father..._

A sigh left his lips, and he let his eyes close, no longer capable of opening again.

 _You're watching over me...you'll watch over me...won't you?_ D'artagnan sighed, body losing feeling as he cold air began slipping under his clothes. Feeling cold and hot, temperatures mingling together and then, nothing. just peace. His fathers eyes, now leading him away from the cold. D'artagnan tried calling out to him, finding no sounds would escape his lips. Fear pulled at his skin as his father walked away, fading into the dark.

_"D'artagnan!"_

That wasn't his fathers voice. The loud shout had caused an immediate reaction, his shoulders tensing as he looked for the source, wanting to find his friends in the midst of confusion. Consciousness slowly trickled back to him, feeling the brisk night once more, shocking pain in him a reminder of the past. Struggling to pry his eyes open to his surroundings, finally getting them to comply had done him no good whatsoever. D'artagnan was looking, but his mind was still foggy, not allowing him to really _see_  anything. A clouded figure, a bright light in the distance. Someone was touching him. Someone?

_He's still alive_

Fear pricked up his spine and in a panic he awkwardly started swinging his limbs in an frantic effort to get away.

_Nonono, don't make me go back, go away! Have to get away!_

Rough hands began to push him back down, confining him against the ground again and he made no other effort to move, exhaustion making him feel like he was made of lead.

_He's back, im not going to make it this time..._

A sharp pain tore through his skin straight to his skull and a scream rang out, causing a fire to burn though his head. _Just sleep, can't hurt you if you're not there anymore..._  He reasoned with himself, finally giving in to the comforting dark that clouded his thoughts. He felt he was being jostled and taken off the floor, but felt something sturdy under him and his drooping eyelids were winning his battle to slip under. They slipped closed, only hearing his small breaths lulling him to sleep. Seemed like an eternity, he was trapped, frozen in time as he felt the pain radiate with each heartbeat. Scrambled voices interrupted his thoughts, muddled within the noises of crackling flame not to far from where he had finally lost feeling in his legs."..ay with us, you 'ear me?" He frowned, exhaustion leaving him limp as felt himself be pulled up from the ground again

_Just gonna sleep, wanna sleep..._

Instantly he felt warmth as someone kept him close, faint smell of candle wax and alcohol almost bringing him to his senses but he dreamt on, wavering between the lines of unconsciousness and reality. "..agnan, dammit you need to.." He was dreaming of walking through the dense fog now, looking up only to see a black sky and yet he wasn't scared. Just tired.

So _tired._

"...lose 'im if we don't..." Lose. _Lose?_ Had he lost something? Goosebumps riddled his skin, one last attempt from his senses to keep him awake but failed, and he sighed as the light disappeared.


	10. Pull him back from the edge

They reached the small path several hours later, horses almost exhausted from the rush. All but leaping off their horses they quickly walked through the path they'd once thought led to their sanctuary a night ago. Yet everything was the polar opposite. Instead of a quiet darkness with a beacon of light, the distant sound of flames made them quicken their pace, worried that things weren't going to end well. Then Athos saw the figure on the ground.

 _"D'artagnan!"_ The shout had clawed itself out of his throat as he noticed the slumped over figure in the middle of the dirt path just beyond the Inn. He'd started sprinting before he'd even processed the whole thing, ignoring the distant flames and only focusing on the young man who was wasn't _moving._ He slid to the floor by their friend, Aramis in close pursuit as Porthos froze next to them at the sight of the burning inn. None of them had expected to find this, not a bloodied D'artagnan collapsed at the side of the road several feet from the inferno of an inn that housed them not so long ago. "Wake up, you need to wake up!" Athos gently tapped on the side of D'artagnan's face, his own blood chilling as his hands came back red. Dread froze him until finally he came back to reality, shaking D'artagnan before Aramis stopped him.

Porthos frowned, D'artagnan hadn't barely even stirred at their voices, let alone any touching. "Help me flip him, I need...I need to see the damage." Aramis cringed, inwardly berating himself for allowing his voice to sound so shaken as Athos and Porthos kneeled beside each other and began rolling him onto his back.

"'e's gonna _live,_ right? He'll pull through?" Porthos looked over at Aramis, who began cursing at the amount of blood covering D'artagnan's front.

"Head wound, no longer bleeding, some bruises...but I doubt that's what stained the ground." Leaning over him, Aramis was about to check the gash on his forehead but froze at the sight of brown eyes peeking out under half shut eyelids. Hope fluttered in his chest until he became aware that D'artagnan wasn't seeing him. "D'artagnan?" The word ghosted over his lips, immediately drawing the attention of his companions.

Within the next few seconds, it became a blur as everything happened at once.

Not even a second after his eyes had pried themselves open did they widen as D'artagnan attempted to scramble away and shoved him to the ground screaming, the fear in his eyes making him appear as frenzied as a cornered animal. "Keep him still!" Aramis scuffled against D'artagnan's waving limbs as Athos and Porthos trying to keep him on his back, finally managing to grab onto his arms and legs. D'artgnan was rambling as they struggled to restrain his twitching form, but they all recognized the ' _no's'_  and "get away" that ripped their hearts as D'artagnan weakly dropped his arms and had tears slip down his cheeks, chest heaving as he took in shaky breaths. Athos had taken control of D'artagnan's arms, wrapped firmly behind his own, while Porthos pinned down his legs to keep him from kicking.

"Keep him steady, I have to check his ribs..." Aramis nodded to each of them, sparing a glance back at D'artagnan's now shut eyes. He hadn't even pressed down over D'artagnan's shirt before the screech that left their ears ringing had echoed through the woods. D'artagnan was half conscious now, pain bringing him back as he tried twisting himself out of their grip again, back arching and frantically babbling incoherently. Spanish filled their buzzing ears as Aramis began cursing to himself, gently pulling back D'artagnan's shirt to find the source of all the blood. "We need to move. _Now._ I need to sew this before it gets worse but we need somewhere to keep him out of the cold." Aramis checked D'artagnan's eyes again, tugging off his jacket and ripping a piece off his shirt.

"Saw a cart down the path, bit broken but we can take 'im down to the barn behind the lot faster." Porthos jumped up, calling back to Aramis , now tightly bandaging D'artagnan as Athos kept his own grip firm around D'artagnan's chest. Athos motioned to Aramis as he spotted Porthos back with the cart, their own horses pulling it along. "Careful, he's losing enough blood as is without us moving him." Aramis commented as he quickly grabbed the necessary supplies from his horse's pouch while Athos gingerly picked up D'artagnan from the ground and placed him in the wooden cart. Hopping in the back as the cart began moving, Aramis began wrapping a bandage around D'artagnan's head and cleaning of the stained blood off his features, keeping one hand pressed tightly against the wound on his front. The barn Porthos had described _was_ around the back, luckily far away enough that there was no danger of it also catching fire, but the sound of the flames still loud enough to fill the silence in the air. _"Shit."_   Porthos took off his hat and ran a hand through his curls, "Damn door's been jammed from the inside."

Athos got down from his horse, examining the large wooden doors in hopes of finding something loose to pry it off the hinges. "If we don't get him somewhere where Aramis can work..." He trailed off, catching Porthos's eye knowing he'd understand what couldn't be said.

Porthos let out a small smile, and patted Athos back reassuringly, before turning back. "Don't worry. Don't grow up in the Court o' Miracles without knowin' your way around a building." Porthos quickly replied, jogging back to the cart where Aramis was desperately trying to keep D'artagnan stable. Quickly shedding his cloak and bundling it under D'artagnan's bandaged head, he shot a glance back at Aramis.

"He still has a pulse, though its weak. You need to hurry."

Porthos cupped D'artagnan's head, smiling faintly. "Stay with us, you 'ear me?" He gave one last nod to Aramis before turning and sprinting down to the shack again, leaping up and pushing himself above the wall to grip one of the wooden ledges and heave himself up to the side. Athos watched, unable to keep his eyes off him as Porthos had somehow managed to swing himself from one end of the shack's side up to a small window and finally disappeared within. Some wood clattered from beyond the door and within the next minute the door was slammed open with a grunt, Porthos rolling his shoulder as he walked out. "Other one's rusted shut, we'll have to carry 'im inside." Athos sighed at their horrible luck, but made his way back to where his other brother laid in the cart.

Aramis was taking a look at D'artagnan's pupils when Athos rounded the end of the cart and muttered "Let's go." before pulling D'artagnan into his arms. Aramis opened his mouth in protest but Athos shook his head, motioning to the barn instead. "I've got him, prepare for him inside." Athos watched Aramis run into the dark barn as he gently made his way to shelter. He'd eve imagined this would happen. Never dreamed that he'd be walking with D'artagnan so close to death and being gone for good in his arms. A groan slapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked down as D'artagnan began coughing weakly. "D'artagnan?" Athos pulled him closer, in a desperate attempt to keep him grounded and conscious. "D'artagnan, dammit you need to stay awake."

"..tired..." Came the mumbled reply, glazed eyes attempting to remain open.

" I understand, but you must wait until you are out of danger to rest." Athos watched helplessly as D'artagnan's eyes slid shut and let out a silent curse as he stepped into the barn. The others had managed to find candle to bring a gentle light to illuminate the room.

"Set him down here." Aramis wiped off an old working bench, as Porthos handed him his medical tools. He went to work as soon as Athos put D'artagnan down, quickly ridding D'artagnan of his shirt. "I need you to-" He froze, noticing the irritated skin that  surrounded the wound. " Dios, ¿cómo es que siempre pasa esto a ti, hijo..." Aramis sighed, placing both hands down onto the bench. Ignoring the other's looks of confusion, he quickly brought out a knife from his pouch and gave it to Porthos, taking out bottles of sale and ointments. "Heat that up till its red then come back." Aramis pointed at the knife as he began rubbing a salve onto the reddened skin. He didn't raise his eyes when Porthos mutely nodded and made his way to the candles. 

"What is it?" Athos looked over Aramis' shoulder, grimacing when he saw the inflamed wound.

"It's gotten infected. I need to open it a little more to drain it before I can start stitching." Aramis replied, applying more salve to the burns on D'artagnan's arms that Athos hadn't noticed until now. Sure it was going to burn later on, but it was better than having them not heal at all.

Porthos returned and handed back the knife, still warm as he waited for Aramis' commands.

Aramis had gently made the first incision when D'artagnan began stirring, letting out a small whimper. Aramis motioned to the other two, before starting again. "Hold him down. _Don't_ knock him out if he wakes." Aramis eyes Athos, "He's got enough head trauma as it is." After making the cut, he'd handed back the knife to Porthos, getting back to work.

The action should have been simple, he'd done it numerous times before. And yet something was off. As the blood began leaking out bits and pieces of  _something_ were still coming out, the time necessary for a clean drain making itself longer than he'd expected. Something was wrong. Aramis breathed deeply before gently feeling the wound and flinched as his finger touched something spiked.  _Something's in there?_ He froze, eyes widening when he pulled out another piece of debris on his fingertip. "Mierda, something's still inside, give me the knife." Snatching it out of Porthos hands, he desperately tried to keep his hands steady as he began digging the object out. There was so much blood, it was making everything feel as though it were about to slip from his grasp just like D'artagnan's life.  _He's losing too much, I need to hurry!_ His fingers were fumbling, both from panic and from the blood seeping endlessly. What seemed like an eternity later, Aramis felt relief seep through his skin when he finally managed to dislodge the thing from inside, tossing it onto the table as he put pressure over D'artagnan's opened wound. The blood had finally began running clean, like he'd originally wanted.

Porthos and Athos were frozen in shock, both from having to witness the 'digging' and seeing what had caused D'artagnan to bleed so profusely.

"We're clean. Get the sheets from the table." Aramis lifted a bloody hand to point across the room, away from the candle light.

"Is that an  _arrow?"_

"That _table. Por dios, apurate!"_ Aramis yelled, making Porthos run to get the sheets. Athos stood by Aramis, replacing the bloodied hands for his own. "Don't lift that until I give word, alright?" Aramis ordered, taking the sheets from Porthos and tearing them, using one to wipe his slippery hands and the other as something to help Athos stop the blood flow. Aramis nodded to Athos and he removed the sheets, damp with blood from those few seconds. Aramis moved closer as he readied his needle and thread, wiping the blood off D'artagnan again. "We're going to lose him if we don't get this closed again." He muttered, quickly piercing the needle through D'artagnan's skin.

 _"Again?"_ Porthos looked up, tearing another piece from the sheets and handing it to Athos, who'd begun replacing the bandage around D'artagnan's head.

"It's been cauterized before, but from the looks of it it may have opened when he got away."Aramis replied, not bothering to look up from what he was doing. He reached up and held a finger to D'artagnan's neck, other hand still holding the needle. "His pulse is slowing...maldita sea, vas a vivir!" Aramis furiously began ranting in spanish, trying to finish sewing D'artagnan up to stop the bleeding. _You are not going to die. I am NOT going to let you die dammit!_ His little brother was not going out like this, not having his last memories being alone in some hell hole. And  _definitely_ not seeing Aramis almost in tears and covered in blood. He was going to live. He was going to live so long as Aramis kept sewing. Filled with a new determination, Aramis trudged on. The entire thing went by quickly thanks to Aramis' now steadied hands. It only took about a minute. Aramis took in a deep breath, finally sewing the wound shut and pleased to see no blood leaking out. "I need you to get some water, I think I spotted a well before we came in." Aramis looked up shakily at Porthos, who said nothing as he went out.

Athos placed a comforting hand on Aramis' shoulder, but Aramis kept his head down, keeping his eyes trained on their youngest. "He's stable, but just barely." Aramis grip tightened around a stained strip of cloth, knuckles turning white. His thoat felt constricted as he remembered how faint D'artagnan's pulse was under his finger tips. "Athos, he's lost too much blood...I'm not quite sure that-"

"Please."  Aramis and Athos both turned to see Porthos walk in swinging the bucket lightly. They would never see how shaken he had seemed when  he ran out to get the water. But standing outside and watching Aramis almost break down was enough to make him keep his head, for their sake. A little bit of denial of a bad situation could always go a long way. "You and I both know that he's too stubborn to let this take 'im. He's been shot before and pulled through just fine." Porthos put the bucket down by the bench, smiling at the two. 

Athos let out a weak laugh, shaking his head. They all knew how D'artagnan managed to get himself in the worst situations. They knew how scared they would all be whenever _any_ of them were in danger. "I don't think that's the best example you could of used at the moment."

"I don't think that's the only example of him being stubborn." Aramis sighed, finding a box to sit on, feeling weary as adrenaline wore off of him. He was grateful for Porthos trying to make the situation lighter than it was. He didn't need to say his thanks, though. They would all know. "I'll take first watch. You two should sleep." Aramis pulled the box closer to the bench D'artagnan was sleeping on and gently placed his jacket over him. 

Athos crossed his arms, walking up to the bench as well. "I'm not tired." 

Aramis raised the bloody knife in a mock threaten, smiling as he flipped it and caught it in one motion. "You're also not the best medic in the group. So sleep." He motioned to the piles of hay on the other side. He turned back to D'artagnan when he heard Athos grudgingly sigh and let out a smile when he heard the rustling of hay.

"Mis?"

He turned back to face Porthos, who hadn't moved from his spot. He was just watching him carefully, worried look clear in the dim light of the room. Aramis sighed, swallowing as he nodded gently. They were always looking out for each other. They _were_ brothers, after all. Aramis waved Porthos off, clearing his throat as he turned back around. "I'm fine. Just rest." Taking a bit of left over sheet, he dipped it in the water and placed it onto D'artagnan's head, hoping to stave away any chances of fever. He relaxed, hearing another rustle of hay and then silence. Silence other than the fire outside and the crickets in the grass. Aramis ran a hand through his hair as he looked over all his friends, and finally looking out to the stars in the small side window. It was going to be a long night.


	11. You have to be okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for such a long wait. Things have been a little hectic lately and I had to get my computer repaired but we're good now! Let this show back on the road, shall we?

"You sure we can move him now?" Porthos hesitated to move from the door, watching as Aramis began easing their unconscious friend into Athos' arms. 

Aramis sighed, not looking up from where he was running the final check up and checking the boy's eyes as Athos watched. "No, not really. In fact, any other time I'd suggest staying in place until he wakes but considering this isn't exactly the best place to keep him _again..._ " He waved offhandedly  to his surrounding, those being the only surroundings D'artagnan had been trapped and gotten to know all too well in the past few days. _We're getting him out of this hell._ "The faster we get him back to town, the less I need to worry about rationing medical supplies in case something _else_ happens." Aramis looked up and nodded to Athos, and they began heading for the door, bags packed with whatever they could salvage.

Porthos finally took a step, turning to jog outside. "I'll bring the cart, then."

Athos followed, stopping when he heard Aramis mutter "The shortest route, if you can."

Athos raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. "Oh you sure? I was thinking of taking the scenic route for a change. Maybe stop by for lunch in a _cave_ somewhere." He sassed, making sure to raise their youngest higher in the air, who coughed quietly.

Aramis cringed inwardly, realizing how stupid that had probably sounded. "Point taken." He nodded, sending Athos back on the path to the cart. Aramis looked back into the barn, eyes falling on the stained dirt where they'd come so close to losing one of their own the night before. Sunlight was peeking in through the wooden boards and it was the very same sunlight that caught the lilac hue coming from behind one of the barrels. Aramis, curiosity getting the better of him, walked over and pushed the heavy barrel over, finding a few stalks of the purple flower hidden from sight. Picking it up, he nearly dropped it when Athos cleared his throat from the doors. _  
_

"I thought we had to move?"

Aramis waved the flowers at Athos with a small smile and quickly walked over.

"No thank you, I'm more fond of roses, if I'm completely honest." Athos began walking away, glancing back when Aramis followed.

Aramis snorted, "Oh, hilarious. Truly." He placed them into his shirt, making sure that the flowers stayed out in the open as to not smother them. _"These,_ " Aramis continued, as they approached the cart, "are for the lovely Esmeralda. I hadn't seen her for quite sometime, and these will make a _wonderful_ gift." Aramis smiled as he hopped into the back of the cart and next to D'artagnan, who'd been tucked in with all of their cloaks. Athos rolled his eyes and took the lead on his horse, Porthos following as he drove the cart out onto the main path. Aramis leaned back against the side of the car, watching D'artagnan twitch quietly. Aramis began getting his supplies ready for another examination, making sure to glance at D'artagnan in case he woke. Even if he didn't now, he would soon.

* * *

 

About an hour later, after they had stopped to let the horses drink from a river, D'artagnan finally opened his eyes. Slowly at first, immediately groaning when the light hit his eyes, shutting them again. Aramis quickly leaned over him, effectively blocking out as much light as he could. Gently placing a hand on D'artagnan's face, he was relieved to find no fever had developed at all since he'd last checked. Looking for the flask of water he'd tucked inside his jacket, he paid no mind as one of the lavender stalks fell by D'artagnan's face. "Thought we were going to lose you." Aramis looked back with a smile.

D'artagnan was frozen in fear, eyes wide.

 _What the hell?_ Aramis frowned, dropping the flask, and leaning in as he placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "D'artagnan? D'art-" Pain erupted from his jaw and he fell back with a grunt, air knocked out of him for a split second. "'thos!" Aramis yelled as he watched D'artagnan scramble over the side of the cart and attempt to run. "Porthos!" Aramis clumsily pulled himself up, equilibrium thrown off from the extreme force of the punch.

Porthos ran from around the side, just barely managing to grip D'artagnan's arm and spin him back around. "Hey, _hey,_ you shouldn't be movin' yet!" D'artagnan was having none f it, struggling to claw his arm out of Porthos' grip. Adrenaline was fogging his thoughts, and D'artagnan pulled them both to the ground with a grunt in a final attempt to be free. "D'artagnan, Its Porthos. _Porthos!_ Relax, You'll rip the stitchin'!" Porthos held D'artagnan's shoulders tightly, kneeling in front of D'artagnan, who was now sitting on the ground.

"...can't..." D'artagnan whispered, shaking heavily, hands wrapped around his side.

"What?"

"I can't brea..I can't breathe..." D'artagnan was gasping, feeling warm and cold and like if the ground was spinning under and over him. He was losing himself, couldn't find solid ground, heart racing. His stomach was twisting and he felt waves of fear washing over him with no intention of stopping.  _I'm dying...I'm dying aren't I?_ He felt chills in his legs, not even realizing when Porthos began yelling.

"Athos! Aramis!"

Athos had come back from where he'd gotten more water for their supplies, dropping it immediately and running towards when he saw the panic ensuing. "What's happening?"

Porthos and Aramis where shouting all together.

"Can't breathe, he-"

"-going into shock? Lie him down! We need to-"

" _Stop_!" Athos cut in between the two, kneeling down beside D'artagnan's trembling form. "Stop. I can handle this, just keep your voices down." The other two froze, glancing at each other. "Aramis go get some water and Porthos, I'm going to need one of the cloaks or anything thick enough to block out the wind." Both ran to quickly retrieve the items and Athos was left with shaky gasps and the sounds of wildlife. "D'artagnan. D'artagnan, can you hear me?" Athos placed a gentle arm around D'artagnan's shoulders. His whispers were rewarded with frantic nodding as D'artagnan shut his eyes tightly. A shaky breath was inhaled too quickly for his liking but as long as he _could_ breathe Athos would take it. Athos pulled him closer, hoping to stop the trembling. "You're going to be alright, do you understand?

Another quick nod. Breathing beginning to even out. He pulled D'artagnan against his chest and inhaled. "Listen to my breathing and follow it. Just listen."

D'artagnan ran a shaky hand through his hair, palms cold and clammy. "The flowers...It's-"

"Don't think about that, think of something else." Athos muttered resting his chin on D'artagnan's head, looking up as Porthos and Aramis came back with the items. He took the cloak first, quickly wrapping it around D'artagnan's shoulders tightly.

"I..." D'artagnan shook his head, avoiding eye contact with everyone around him, he didn't want them to see him like this. "I-I can't-"

Athos sat down behind D'artagnan, knowing he wouldn't want Athos to be watching him. Back to back, Athos let his head rest against D'artagnan's. "What do you remember about your mother, D'artagnan? What was she like?" Athos glanced back at Porthos and Aramis, still frozen in place and shook his head. They nodded and disappeared around the cart. The last thing D'artagnan needed was to worry about others seeing him. Athos sighed,"You know, my mother was beautiful. But of course many others would believe that of their own mothers, wouldn't you?" He smiled when he felt the slow nod against him. He knew talking would be able to calm him down. So thats what he did. No fuss, no yelling, just quietly talking about family, memories,  _anything_ to make D'artagnan forget.

After several minutes of Athos quietly talking about his family, he noticed the shaking had finally gone down. "D'artgnan?" Athos turned his head to the side to try to look back at his friend.

"...thank you." D'artagnan muttered, pulling the cloak tighter around him.

"I need to tell the others something, do you mind if I go quickly?" Athos leaned back against him again, relieved his plan had worked.

"S'okay. I'm fine." D'artagnan whispered, looking up as Athos got to his feet and met his eyes. D'artagnan nodded, feeling suddenly drained and let his eyes close. "I'm okay...'m okay."

Athos walked back to where the other two had waited behind the cart. Porthos spotted him first. "How'd you know to do that?"

"When I was younger, Thomas had very brief periods of panic and fear. It happened once when we were out in the yard. I recognized the look in his eyes..." Athos looked away, remembering how frantic he was to make things right again. He was lost in his memories but Aramis cursed, snapping his mind back to the present.

"It was the _flowers."_

Athos and Porthos looked back at the other, watching as Aramis snatched the stalks of flowers out of his shirt and threw them at the ground in a rage. He began pacing, quickly grabbing the stalk he'd dropped inside the cart and throwing it into the forest. " _Por dios_ , I picked those flowers up from inside the barn, I didn't think there'd be such a reaction-"

"None of us did." Athos called out, eyes following Aramis as he continued his pacing. "Whatever had happened in there scared him badly enough that his _mind_ panics at anything that could remind him of it." 

Aramis finally slowed to a stop and sighed, running a hand through his hair. Porthos walked up to him, motioning to where D'artagnan sat on the ground behind them. "You think he'll really be okay after this?"

"His wounds _are_  healing well..." Aramis trailed off, eyes still stuck on the flowers.

"Not like that. You know what I'm saying, 'mis." Porthos frowned, crossing his arms. Aramis glanced at Porthos, but said nothing.

"He'll be fine, he has to be." Athos cut in, knowing Aramis never liked having to be the bearer of any bad news. They remained standing there silently, horse snorting bringing them back out of their thoughts. A cloud of dread had been forming above them in their silence, making things begin to look worse. Porthos was going to lose it if they lost hope. "'e still knows how to throw a hell of a punch, apparently. Ay, 'mis?" Porthos smiled, lightly elbowing his friend.

Aramis returned the smile and rolled his eyes, grimacing when he touched his jaw. "Hell is right. What do I tell Esmeralda now that her favorite face has been beaten?" Porthos shared an amused glance at Athos as Aramis made a big deal of the bruise as he walked back to D'artagnan. "Mon dieu, the _tragedy."_ Aramis called back, waving a hand dramatically.

Athos put a hand on Porthos' shoulder, silently grateful that he had kept them from becoming desperate. "He's a fighter, Porthos. There's no need to worry. He's going to be fine." Porthos nodded, letting out a sigh and heading back for the horses. Athos watched as Aramis fussed over D'artagnan and walked him back to the cart.  _He's still exhausted._ Athos noticed when D'artagnan stumbled his way into the cart. Pulling the map out from his jacket, he knew taking a short cut would mean a lot of jostling, but the sooner they were  _home,_ somewhere D'artagnan would know he would be safe, the better they would all feel. 


	12. Long way home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sososososososososososososososososososososososo sorry!!!! I had honestly been so busy with a new job and looking for a new house with my parents that i haven't touched my laptop at all until this week! But fear not friends! Cause you know who's got a returning passion and determination? ME. I'll write to you all soon :)

Once D'artagnan had calmed down enough, they managed to get him back into the cart before he quickly fell asleep. The sounds of the forest around them stopped the silence hanging over them. Athos checked his map once more, tucking the worn out paper back into the safety of his leather jacket. "We'll be back home within the evening." He turned around as much as he could, reigns tight in his hand for balance as he called back to Aramis. "How is he?"

Aramis stood slowly in the moving cart, keeping a hand on the side so he could remain upright on the moving wood. "Better, considering he hasn't attacked me again." Aramis looked back down to their sleeping friend, and sighed.  _That isn't really the best progress he could make, but its the best we can manage._

"You really think it was the flower that scared 'im?" Porthos glanced between Aramis and Athos, memory of the panic that ensued replaying on a loop in his mind. How frenzied D'artagnan had been in his desperate attempts to escape.

"He kept babbling about the flowers...the lavender." Athos nodded, slowing his horse so he was at the same pace as the cart, no longer needing to talk as loudly. "He's associating what happened to him with the _smell."_  

"What?"

Athos thought back to when they first found him, remembering how quickly he had picked him up and smelled the ash and lavender as he pulled D'artagnan close. "He'd already had the faint smell of flowers from before, back when I carried him into the barn. Didn't you smell it?"

Aramis leaned over the cart's front casually, taking off his hat to run a hand through his hair. "Well, yes but I'd assumed it was my imagination." He muttered, waving a hand in a rolling motion. Considering all the things he had to deal with that night, it was understandable that  _smelling_ his bleeding patient was the last thing on his mind. He was a little more concerned with making sure his younger brother didn't bleed out in his _arms._

"Imagination or not, you had some still on you when he'd woken up since his disappearance."

Porthos hummed, picking at his mustache. "Oh _riiight,_ I remember that. Said it was for the new girl. What's 'er name, _Esmeralda?"_ He looked back at Aramis for confirmation, but his friend had his head down. Hidden behind his crossed arms, and silent. He frowned when Aramis' fist came up and hit the cart with a quiet thump.

"So it really was my fault." Aramis muttered, feeling shame begin to fester in his stomach. He was only making it worse for D'artagnan's healing process. "He shouldn't have moved around so soon, but if I wasn't such an-"

"Blaming yourself won't help him heal any faster, Aramis." Athos crossed his arms, taking the lead once more. Though nothing was happening, Athos wanted to be sure no one else would be harmed so he was always on alert. He stayed 

"An' we both know he needs to get better." Porthos agreed, reaching behind him and placing a comforting hand on Aramis's shoulder that was within reach.

"Yeah, yeah alright..." Aramis shrugged, trying to forget his guilt as best he could. He slid back down to the base of the cart, staring out the back. He needed to keep his mind occupied for now. Looking around for something of interest, he sighed. Nothing interesting about lines of trees and the occasional bush. down by his feet, D'artagnan fidgeted in his sleep. "How long have we been moving?"Aramis brought his attention back to Porthos, whistling as he drove the cart.

"'bout an hour I suppose."

Aramis nodded to himself, deciding the best thing he could do at the moment was not sulk, but rather inspect his patient again. _Carefully this time. Can't have him panic again._ Aramis thought to himself as he sat upright in the cart. "I'm checking him again." Hearing no sign of disapproval, he gently tapped D'artagnan's cheek. "D'artagnan."

D'artagnan muttered a groan, brow furrowing when Aramis began sitting him up. D'artagnan let his head fall to his chest, not bothering coming back to reality and instead tried his best to continue sleeping.

"I know you need your beauty sleep, D'artagnan." Aramis rolled his eyes, smiling halfheartedly. "Just for a moment, let me see your eyes." He lifted D'artagnan's head, hands on both sides of his brother's face when D'artagnan looked up at him with half lidded brown eyes. "There you are, welcome back." Aramis smiled,  looking into his pupils carefully as he looked for any remaining signs of the concussion he'd seen earlier. "Hmmm....You're fine, just go back to sleep now okay?" He gently patted D'artagnan's cheek, easing him back down onto the cloaks. D'artagnan weakly nodded, shuffling onto his good side and shut his eyes again with a shaky sigh. Not wanting to wait until D'artagnan was completely out, he gently lifted D'artagnan's shirt, and checked the bandages, seeing little to no fresh blood coming through, he pulled a few up, wanting to check the stitching underneath. Finding no cause for concern, he hummed in relief and let the bandages fall back again and pulled D'artagnan's shirt back down. Pulling a cloak from under D'artagnan, he placed it over the sleeping form and stretched his arms.

"Well?" Athos called out from in front.

Aramis stood and leaned over the front of the cart again, in an attempt to stretch his legs as best he could. He began counting off the lists of positives on his fingers."His concussion is almost gone. Eyes are returning to normal, he's much more stable, stitching's still managed to stay intact no thanks to the _driver."_  Aramis grinned as Porthos turned with mock glare. "From the looks of it, no signs of infection either." He finished, using the last to make a thumbs up motion.

"Good." Athos sighed, feeling a bit of relief that nothing else had happened. The last thing he wanted was for an infection to set in  _again_ and not be able to have remaining supplies to keep his men safe.

* * *

Porthos sat in the cart, watching the camp fire as everyone else slept. It had been some time since he'd started his watch, not be able to sleep comfortably while Aramis attempted in vain to stay up all night. He sighed, watching the white cloud leave him and float up to the starry night. Hearing shuffling behind him, he turned to see D'artagnan begin slowly propping himself up. "How you feelin'?" Porthos smiled.

"My arms are little numb..." D'artagnan fidgeted with his sleeves, pulling them up to inspect the bandages wrapped tightly around his forearms.

"Aramis put some kind of poultice on your hands." Porthos began rummaging through his bag, tucked away under the cart. "Had some nasty burns there, but he says you'll be fine." He pulled out a bit of bread he'd always kept for emergencies, deciding this was a good a time as any to give something to try to fill D'artagnan's stomach. Handing it slowly, not wanting to scare him again, Porthos continued. "You were tied up for 'bout a day, so it'd explain the numbing."

"Oh." D'artagnan nibbled on the bread quietly, still unsure if his stomach would take it. As soon as he swallowed a piece, not a second after, he finished the whole thing in a couple of bites, eagerly accepting the bread that tasted like heaven at the moment.

Porthos watched as D'artagnan ate hungrily, wondering if the last meal he'd had was the bread and cheese they'd left for him days ago. His hands clenched into fists. "Wish I'd found the both of you earlier. Would'a gutted him on the spot for what 'e did to you." He noticed how slightly D'artagnan seemed to grimace when he swallowed a bite. Was his throat injured? "Your neck alright? How bad 'e grab you?" Porthos began scooting over into the cart, wanting to check D'artagnan for anything Aramis might have missed.

D'artagnan shrunk into himself, hands now free since he'd finished his food. He lowered his glance to the flames and quickly covered his neck with a hand. "I'm fine..." He muttered. He nervously pulled the collar of his shirt back up, frustrated when he felt his hands shake.

Porthos sat in front of him, not wanting to sacrifice D'artagnan's safe zone by coming any closer. Guilt nagged at him. Why was he guilty? "What aren't you telling me?" It was as if something in him was desperately begging him not to continue, to follow what D'artagnan was saying and move on. It scared him.

"There's nothing-"

"D'artagnan." Porthos raised an eyebrow, cutting his sentence short as their hushed voices covered the sounds of crackling wood. "I know when someone's tryin' to hide something, its in your eyes. " The eyes which were currently locked onto the wood underneath him. " _You_ never had a poker face to begin with." Porthos sat crossed legged, blocking most of the view of the fire behind him. He should've felt warm with the flames at his back but all he felt was the cold surrounding the cart. The cold crawling under his skin. He shouldn't be bring this back.

"....sn't him."

The quiet mumble just made Porthos didn't make Porthos feel any more comforted than how he'd already felt. "Mind sayin' that again?"

"It..." D'artagnan glanced up and held eye contact for a few second before falling again. He was fidgeting with his wrists again. "...wasn't him."

Porthos sat up straighter, eyes widening as his mind raced back to the Inn. "Someone else did that to you?" He looked down, silent as his mind raced to search through memories of the Inn. "Thought there was only one-"

D'artagnan shuffled back, leaning against the hard wood of the cart's side. His eyes slid closed, and he let the words finally leave his mouth. "Lucas  _was_  alone, these were from before the trip through the woods." He pulled his legs up quietly. _"After_ we left the Inn."

Porthos' eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed, deep in thought. _That had to be wrong..._  "We were with you in those woods. No one was there to-"

D'artagnan looked back at him sadly, feeling regret begin to build. He saw Porthos beginning to make the connections, saw the guilt begin to claw away at him. Porthos looked up at him, head starting to slowly shake in denial. "We were with you... _We..."_

D'artagnan swallowed back the regret, leg beginning to shake slightly. "'s not your fault. Lucas-"

"The hell it wasn't!" Porthos snapped, making D'artagnan flinch back into the wood. Porthos froze, looking at the reaction he'd made in D'artagnan, silence in the air telling him that somehow the others had slept though the noise. "We're supposed to protect each other not-" His voice fell, his own hand reaching up and touching his neck slightly, remembering how much damage he was capable of doing in a fight. A fight against the _enemy,_  not against his _friends._ "Not do that..."

"It's fin-"

_"Dont-"_ Porthos shut his eyes in frustration and raised an open hand, willing himself to stay as calm as possible despite the anger that he'd felt against himself boiling up in his stomach. "Don't give me that! You an' I both now what we did ain't right." _This wasn't possible, it's not true._ His head was pounding and he found himself desperately wishing to both remember what he'd done and wishing for him never to have to think back on it. His mind couldn't care less about the latter, so he found himself visualizing what he felt to be _his_ hands around D'artagnan's throat for a second before he ran a hand through his hair. This couldn't have happened. "D'artgnan, what..."

"Porthos, no-"

" _What-"_ His head shot up, and he lifted a hand in a gentle manner, not wanting to make D'artagnan feel any worse. It fell limply, palm up onto his lap in defeat as he looked at D'artagnan sadly. "What did I _do?"_

"You don't need to do this." D'artagnan looked at him one last time. He saw the silent plea in Porthos' eyes, and silently began lowering his collar to reveal the bruising. It had darkened over the days, but he no longer felt as much pain touching it as he did the first time. It was starting to heal.

"Christ." Porthos gasped out, slowly moving closer to inspect D'artagnan's neck. His hands were shaking and the mantra of _this isn't real_ was on repeat in the back of his mind, replacing any other thought. "Oh,  _christ_. D'artagnan, dammit I'm sorry." Seeing the wound brought more memories, more _feelings_ of past rage and annoyance as he remembered wrapping his hands firmly around the neck he was currently cupping gently. "I don't know how to undo this to you... 'm _sorry_  I-I should never have done this."

D'artagnan shook his head, lowered since Porthos began his inspection."You weren't in your right mind. Lucas..." He reached up and slowly pulled Porthos' hands away from his neck, feeling the trickle of fear starting up. He didn't feel comfortable being touched this long. Made him paranoid, and it frustrated him now that he knew his friends were probably back to normal. _ARE back to normal, dammit._ "He put something in the wine. Makes people lose it."  _Like his family_ D'artagnan thought, wondering what they'd ended up doing to each other. What they might've been capable of.

"Doesn't matter." Porthos' hands clenched in guilt. "I would never had done this before, there's no reason to give me an excuse to stop me from apologizing." He felt vile, like a criminal and wanting nothing more than to feel like himself with his friends again.

"You know I'd forgive you." D'artagnan sighed, flinching when the cold started stinging the bruises. He raised his collar again, only now in protection instead of shame. It felt better. Not as disgusting inside to have to hide the reality from those unaware of it.

"That doesn't quite make this any better for me. Still got to live with it, y'know." Porthos leaned forward, pulling off his cloak and using it to shelter D'artagnan instead. He felt warm enough from the fire. Glancing back at the others, his eyes widened, and he turned quickly. "The others? What did _they_..." His eyes fell, realizing he was trying to storm past many boundaries, some he may cause damage with. He knew some things never needed to be said, some being light and with care but the others being so dark that you could lose yourself without any guidance. They all knew that. "'m sorry. Don't want to open an old wound. Not my right to do so."

"No, I...I'll tell you." D'artagnan leaned back against the wood and let his eyes close. He was determined...but he felt he was still going to hold back. Just for now. "Finally get it out of my own head for once."

And so under the stars that a few days past were the audience of their wonderful stories and jokes, were now witness to D'artagnan's revelation to Porthos. How he struggled for those days just to make sure that they came out alright. How quickly they had twisted into something he could barely recognize. And while this entire count had spilled out of his lips, he knew he had stuttered, failed at remembering details and shook as the story went on. He was vague, yes. But Porthos knew not to push, just let it happen.

Porthos had come to sit against the backboard of the cart by D'artagnan, feet outstretched as he watched his younger brother. "Aramis _hit_ you? Thought the bruises were from-"

D'artagnan had his finger hover over his face, vaguely motioning in circle of sorts. "No, its underneath it. Bit layered but still there."

"He do anythin' else?"

"He, uh...took out his pistol-b-but!" D'artagnan raised his arms quickly and shook off Porthos' look of shock as frantically as possible. "but he didn't _shoot!_ Just...you know, threatened... a little." He shrugged, blinking slowly as he remembered the malice in the shooter's eyes. The dread that followed.

"And Athos?" Porthos raised an eyebrow, turning his head to face D'artagnan. He didn't like the look on his face when he mentioned Athos at all.

D'artagnan tensed, knowing how uncomfortable he must have looked in those few seconds. He tried to play it off, as he forced himself to lean back against the wood again. "He just...just acted a bit like he does when he gets drunk, really. Like on one of his really bad days." He didn't turn to look at Porthos, focused on watching the fire as intently as he could.

"How bad?" Porthos grunted, frowning as he thought back to Athos on his worst nights, getting different ideas of what could have happened. He still had a small scar from one of those, though he never told Athos once he had sobered and forgotten about his actions.

"Uh, actually..." D'artagnan coughed, pulling the cloak tighter around him. They'd been at it for too long and he didn't want to go any farther down his memories. Not yet. "I-I think I'm getting a bit tired now. You mind if I just sleep for a bit?" He glanced quickly at the others and tried playing at making things lighthearted again. "Before Aramis comes in motherhen again?" He smiled weakly, eyes slowly closing as he pushed himself down and laid himself comfortably in the cart. He knew that Porthos knew what he was doing. He was avoiding what had happened as stubbornly as someone in denial of an accident. But he honestly was thankful Porthos had said nothing about it. He felt a hand lightly pat him on the shoulder, glad he hadn't flinched this time.

"Get some sleep. I'll wake you if necessary."

D'artagnan felt the cart shift as Porthos began shuffling off to the edge of it. It was still his turn for watch. D'artagnan lifted his head, eyes falling on the silhouette facing the near dying fire. The fire was cackling faintly, and a bird rustled a few branches above them. "Porthos?"

"Hmm?"

"Please, could you just... _not_ tell them about what happened?" D'artagnan, let his head fall, too tired to do it again. His eyes landed on the wooden wall in front of him, eyes following each curl in the wood as he spoke. "I'll tell them later on but I don't want them to...I don't-"  _I don't want them to think less of me. Not again._

Porthos sighed and looked up, line of sight glancing at the trail of smoke rising to the sky. He would regret this. Looking back at his brother, he finally nodded. "You got no reason to have to explain now. But they  _do_  need to know, you hearin' me?" He smiled, seeing a small nod at the far end of the cloaked bundle. The smile fell slowly as he looked back to the camp, mind now filling him with the memories of the Inn.  _His_ memories. And he wished he'd never had them.


	13. Safety

 His senses slowly came back to him before he'd even opened his eyes. He wasn't rocking back and forth anymore and couldn't hear the wind rustling through the trees, or the horses. D'artagnan inhaled sharply, eyes slowly opening and focusing on the pillow underneath him. He could hear the ambient noise outside, quiet chatter and wood creaking. His mind was still groggy, wanting to turn and fall back asleep but fought with himself to remember where he was. He shifted onto his back, weakly pushing himself up on his elbows as he tried to process his surroundings. Seemed to be a room, not his,  but the light coming from the window by him was enough to let him see around to feel something familiar about the place.  "Where...?"

The door opening caught his attention and his eyes left the open window. He looked up as Aramis walked in through the door, tray filled with herbs in hand. "Barracks. You passed out in the middle of our conversation sometime ago." He walked over, gently placing the tray onto a dresser and pulled a chair up to the bed, crossing his arms and smiling. "Nearly made me have a heart attack."

D'artagnan lowered his head and laid back against the comfortable sheets. He didn't remember it. Last thing he could think of was when Porthos talked with him by the fire. Straining himself to attempt to reach the memory that didn't seem to exist, he gave up. "Sorry..." He muttered, rubbing his eyes. His head was still hurting but it wasn't as bad. Not like before. "Where are the others?"

"Athos is speaking to Treville, Porthos is out getting breakfast." Aramis continued, bringing up his medical pouch and revising his supplies. He'd stocked up before coming to visit and was glad he had everything he would need for the check up. He looked up to see D'artagnan wince as the light from the window reflected off the tray and hit his eyes. "How's your head?"

"Mmm.." D'artagnan sighed, eyes wandering over the ceiling before they closed again. He was fine. "Bit muddy when I get up too fast but nothing else." D'artagnan shrugged, looking over Aramis again.

Whether it was because the last time Aramis was alone with him in a room he'd almost been shot, or he still wasn't fully back in his right mind, he didn't know.

All he knew for sure was that his body took a mind of its own and when Aramis moved his hand into his jacket to pull something out, it was too quick for his liking. His back slammed into the wall as he lurched away, worse case of flinching he'd ever had.

Aramis's eyes snapped up as it happened, concern and worry mixed into one as he slowly placed a pouch onto the drawers. He cautiously brought his hands back to him, eyes never leaving his brother. He didn't like the look in D'artagnan's eyes as he tried to relax into the bed again, failing at hiding the look in his eyes. "I'm... just getting your medicine..." There was a rock in the pit of his stomach, feeling as though he was verging onto territory there'd be no return from."Is something wro-?"

"No."D'artagnan cut him off, eyes fixated on the wall in front of him. "Nothing." His arms crossed tightly around him, he made no other movements as they heard laughter outside the window. Try as he could to look relaxed, his hands where tightly holding onto his sides as a means of comfort.

"You've been jumpy each time I happen to be alone with you." Aramis narrowed his eyes, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs.

"I think considering whats happened, I'm allowed to be jumpy." D'artagnan turned his head to face him, the rest of his body still as tense as before. There was no way in hell he'd do this again. Not as long as Aramis still had the chance to never know about this. He shouldn't have to remember it at all. D'artagnan was fine if he was the only one left to remember what had happened and was willing to take it to his grave if they allowed it.

"Not like this." Aramis looked down at his hands, clenching them lightly. He looked up and saw it hiding behind the determination in D'artagnan's eyes. The hidden _plea_ of  _don't do this._ It hit him hard and that was it. He sighed, got ready to stand and close the door when he froze.  _If i shut the door, he'll panic. But if he doesn't want anyone to know... Damn it._   Aramis silently scootted his chair closer to the bed, eyes shut. "...D'artagnan, what...." He had to make the jump. "What did I do? Porthos told me about what happened with him. We _all_ drank that wine."

"What did _I_ do?"

He knew he was breathing faster than he was earlier and tried his best not to notice, hoping Aramis would do the same. He didn't. "It's not important. It's over now." D'artagnan shut his eyes, turning away from Aramis and feigning sleep. He felt heat build within, both due to the fact that he was angry that Porthos had gone against his wishes and feeling ashamed for reacting so badly. He didn't mean to get so scared. He shouldn't be this scared. 

"Not for you." Aramis whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He sighed when he felt the muscles under his palm tense again but was filled with slight relief when his younger brother shuffled over to face him, blanket pulled tight. "Porthos...Porthos told me about the wine, once you fell asleep. We figured something was in it when we woke with you gone." He looked down and stifled a sad laugh, lightly flicking his forehead as he didn't want to scare his with a light hit to the shoulder. "Don't get that look, you know its too dangerous to keep secrets. Let me see your neck."

D'artagnan complied quietly, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to his lap. He didn't flinch at all when Aramis touched him, just stared at his hands while his friend did an inspection. "What else did he tell you?"

"Only about what he'd done. Completely mute about anything else, since apparently he didn't want to forget your agreement..." Aramis tilted his head slightly, pushing D'artagnan's up enough to see under his chin. Feeling glad that the bruises were fading now, he let D'artagnan go. They silently glanced around the room in an awkward attempt at ignoring what they knew would be asked. "What did I do?..." Aramis whispered again, looking up at D'artgnan in a way that they both knew there would be no more avoiding.

D'artagnan swallowed after a minute, fiddling with the blanket."You'd..." He leaned back against the wall, letting out a sigh as he stared straight ahead. He couldn't look at him. "You'd never try to shoot me would you?"

"What? Why the hell would I _do_ that?" Aramis recoiled in disbelief, crossing his arms. His eyes widened as he paled, a thought striking him down. "Wait...W-Wait _did_ I do that? I _shot_ you?" He swore he felt like he'd been poisoned, cold seeping through his skin and finding it hard to breathe deeply. He shuddered out a breath when D'artagnan shook his head slowly.

He let out a long exhale, blinking slowly as he saw himself those days ago, watching the scene unfold from a different perspective in his mind. He hadn't tried to think of it, yet he could remember it so clearly he could tell you each second he took a breath he thought would be his last. "You threatened mostly, you never shot though. You never did." D'artagnan glanced at Aramis and felt horrible when he saw how horrified Aramis was and felt  _comforted_ by his friend's panic.

"I never _will_." Aramis ran both hands through his hair, standing up and pacing. He couldn't just sit still after being told he'd nearly killed his friend. _Willingly_ almost killed his brother. He knew he wouldn't miss either, not if he was as angry as he was starting to remember. How much hate was he capable of producing against someone he cared about? He wouldn't think like that, it didn't happen."God, I never....I was  _furious_ I...Tell me I didn't hurt you. Tell me nothing else happened." 

He'd watched Aramis walk back and forth in a panic, exhaustion being contagious as Aramis slowed to a stop. "Nothing bigger than that, I swear." D'artagnan felt tired again, maybe since this entire time he'd focused his energy in making sure nothing was revealed. Now it was starting to spill again and he wasn't putting up a fight to bottle it down again. He was never comfortable simply letting everything get realized, so he only said as much as he felt like sharing. As much as they _should_ know. He'd opened the door, little by little...

"And Athos? He was there...shared our drinks."

The door shut.

"That's something for another day, I suppose then." Aramis sighed, sinking back into his chair. He didn't look back at D'artagnan. Instead, he'd hung his head and held it in his hands, silence almost filling the room as they heard a baby crying outside. The mother's hushed whispers seemed to calm the noise.

"I _do_  forgive you." D'artagnan's voice rose from the quiet. Aramis shook his head and didn't look up at first.

"You don't have to. Not after all of this." He mumbled from within his hand.

"I still do.That's what friends are for, isn't it?"

Aramis lifted his head, eyes wide. D'artagnan had his left hand outstretched and was awaiting Aramis' own. His shoulders fell and he couldn't help the shaky laugh that escaped, his own head shaking in disbelief. "Always the most innocent of the group." He took D'artagnan's hand in a tight grip, fiercely grinning as he understood. He was going to be alright. They'd fight through hell and back, but _god_ would they come out okay. "But then again, that is the god given role of little brothers, no?"

"Mostly, but with you around one of us has to be twice as innocent." A gruff voice interrupted their moment.

Porthos leaned against the door frame, holding another tray but this one had separate bowls instead of the boxes of plants Aramis had brought in earlier. It was obvious he'd heard them come back together. He pulled up another chair and passed down the bowls as he sat by his friends."Complements from the chef." Porthos grinned widely, throwing an arm around Aramis and leaning back in his chair.

D'artagnan grimaced at the lumpy and discolored 'liquid' in his bowl. He was _not_ putting that anywhere _near_ his mouth. "Looks more like an insult than a complement."

The others laughed, Porthos nodding and putting his own plate back on the tray. They hadn't laughed like this in a long time. It felt nice."You tell the cook that."


	14. Trouble always finds you

He ran.

Ducked into every nook and cranny he could find in order to finally make his escape. His heart was pounding and he heard it clearly in his his head as he snuck into a nearby shop. He saw a shadow follow him inside before he escaped again through the window. It was useless and he knew it, but damn if he wasn't going to try. Desperate for some means of escape he scrambled onto a rooftop, jumping each building as he heard the footsteps behind him only to find no one there when he turned around. Jumping down into an alley way he stumbled over a fallen broom before he found himself out in the open and completely alone. He heard something shuffle behind him and turned to once again see nothing but an empty street. That was it.

D'artagnan sighed loudly in exasperation, spotting the movement in the corner of his eye as he stormed into the marketplace. " _Enough!"_  He stood still, turning around rapidly, hoping to spot them in their hiding places. He knew they were nearby, even though he couldn't see them. It had been about 2 days since they arrived and since his side no longer needed to be checked every hour, he was deemed healthy enough to go back to the Bonacieux home. But even then, he was still being watched every step of the way, no matter how quickly he ran and ducked to escape his friends. They somehow managed to find him and were lurking around every corner. And it was infuriating. Touching yes, that they cared so much even after he was safe, but still _infuriating_. "I don't need to be walked back. I'm not a _child."_ D'artagnan muttered, crossing his arms, not bothering to run again when he knew it was going to be pointless again.

_"Well..."_ Aramis snuck up from behind him and placed a caring arm around his shoulder as they walked again, leaning heavily onto him as he ruffled up D'artagnan's hair. 

"Don't." D'artagnan's eyes narrowed, lifting a threatening finger before crashing into Athos.  _Where the hell had he come from?_  He shook himself free, groaning as they laughed."I'm very much capable of walking  _home._ I don't need body guards!" A hat covered his face and he snatched it off, mouth open and ready to yell again. Looking around, he spotted no one and rolled his eyes. "You're all going to make me late!" He yelled up at no one, turning his eyes to the sky asif he could plea for something to levitate him away and in front of Constance. A small stone hit his back, and he turned exasperatedly facing the grinning Porthos tossing another pebble up and down. "If I get lectured again, I'm blaming you.  _All_ of you." Quickly turning to catch the hand about to smack his back, he laughed when he saw Aramis' eyes go wide in shock. "You can't fool me that many times and get away with it." He grinned, tilting his head as he narrowed his eyes.

"You know, this was more fun when he had horrible reflexes." Aramis pouted, shaking his hand out of D'artagnan's grip.

"Maybe you're losing your touch." Athos took the hat back from D'artagnan's free hand and placed it back on. They followed him out of the marketplace, joking and getting Aramis riled up because " _I'm not that old!"_ was a terrible way of defending yourself. Before long they were walking down the path that led to the Bonacieux's and D'artagnan knocked before walking in, friends close behind as they crossed into the kitchen. His mouth was opened and ready to call out when he saw a flurry of white and he felt himself get tackled. The fierce hug had sent him bumping into Aramis, but luckily Porthos had caught the Spaniard before the two of them went down. Athos, however, had sidestepped casually as soon as he saw Constance round the corner, instincts telling him to make space.

The hug lasted about a minute, but was very well welcomed by D'artagnan as the shock wore off and he returned the embrace. She fussed over him as a mother who'd had a lost child returned to her would, and it was endearing to everyone as they took in the scene. "You're _back!_ Are you alright?" Constance began looking him over, slowly setting him free from her embrace. 

"Nothing a few nights in the barracks couldn't fix." Athos called out, smiling as he greeted her.

"I'm fine, really." D'artagnan laughed, looking down and noticing the covers spilled on the floor.  _That must have been the white..._ He crouched down and helped her pick up the covers, shrugging at her look of concern. He knew how badly she worried whenever he'd leave for a mission. "Nothing to worry about anymore." 

She sighed as she spotted a bit of dust on the white fabrics, wiping it off in hope that nothing had stained. "I just washed..." Constance took the covers from D'artagnan's arms, setting them down on the table currently covered in several groceries she had purchased earlier, and froze. She frowned, noticing the bandage peeking out from under D'artagnan's shirt when he reached down to pick up the last sheet. "If I catch you bleeding in the sheets again-"

"Again?" Athos raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"It was _once_." D'artagnan turned back to reassure him with a look of mock defiance, and spun back around to face Constance instantly shifting to to a deep care." And it _won't_  happen." He patted his side and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, gentle smile completely soothing any doubts she may have had. "Believe me, I'm perfectly fine."

Constance eyed him for another minute before finally complying. "Alright..." She backed away into the kitchen bringing out a small pouch and taking out some coins. Handing it to D'artagnan, she hid the pouch again in a drawer. They had pretended not to notice that she showed where her money was stored, but found it nice that they were trusted enough that she didn't mind them seeing. "Would you mind taking this to the man outside, then?" He smiled when he nodded and gently took the coins from her hand before heading out.

D'artagnan walked out of the home, leaving the four to themselves. Constance brought out a pitcher and gave them each a cup of what appeared to be tea. She leaned back and watched through on of the windows as D'artagnan talked with the older man outside. D'artagnan had said something to make them laugh. "Poor thing." Constance sighed, refilling Porthos glass as he thanked her.

Whatever it was that caused her to look so crestfallen was their new target, as they had become very close friends over time. "What's wrong?" He asked, ready to move. Porthos didn't like the look on her face when she turned away. The others had followed his actions, hoping to get more information, at least a _name_ , before they began heading out. No doubt D'artagnan would come along without hesitation. All the had to say were the words 'Constance needs help' and he'd be ready to do the impossible to make things right.

"He's got no one left with him now." She sighed and began putting away some of her groceries in the cupboards as she continued. "Said his daughter's been missing for a few months now. Looked everywhere but never found her again... Can't imagine what that must be like for him."

The older musketeers shared a look, knowing that too much time passing could make a kidnapping turn final. Athos sat down in one of the chairs, Porthos and Aramis following suit. "He never filed for missing persons?" He glanced out the window as D'artagnan seemed to be saying his farewells. The man waved again before turning the corner and picking up his tarp covered cart. He caught a glimpse of something underneath the cloth but wasn't sure if it was really  _that_ that he had seen.

Constance was completely oblivious to his sudden focus outside."Oh no, said he wouldn't be able to afford paying someone a reward afterwards." She shook her head, folding the laundry again and disappearing into the kitchen once more. "That's why he's running the shop by himself in order to pay to find his daughter again." She called out, before finally falling silent. They heard cupboards being shut and heard shuffling. Constance walked out with a basket, smiling as she plucked something out from within it. "Sells some lovely flowers though." Athos froze, horribly realizing he wasn't mistaken when he thought he saw the glimpse of lilac underneath the brown tarp. The door slammed shut as she held up the flowers, strong smell quickly spreading into the silent room. "Look, they're wonderful aren't they D'artagnan?"

It was lavender.


	15. But so will we

Time froze for what seemed like minutes as their hearts dropped into the pits of their stomachs. Porthos was the first to turn, immediately focusing on the beads of sweat lining D'artagnan's brow. He was starting to breathe heavily, face paling as the smell got to him . "Lad?" Seconds stretched by slowly, then time snapped back into place and hell broke loose.

Chairs were thrown, doors were slammed open and the yelling started.

"D'artagnan!" Athos jumped up as D'artagnan scrambled out the door. "D'art-Aramis!" Athos called back, not bothering to look at anyone else as he ran out the door. They could hear Athos's cries fading as Aramis sprang up and began running for the door. Porthos cursed and began heading for the door.

"What is it? What's happening?" Constance cried out as Aramis burst out of her home, clutching onto Porthos' sleeve in a desperate attempt to find the truth. She looked close to tears, bringing him to a stop.

Aramis froze at the door, looking back in. He knew he had no time, but making her panicked as well seemed unnecessary. "He was-"

Porthos raised a hand behind him, directed at only Aramis to stop him from saying more. "Recently treated for bein' allergic to those flowers. Better not be in the same room as 'em, its painful." She shouldn't know the whole truth of what happened. There was no reason for her to discover what had happened to someone she loved so dearly. It would crush her. He looked back at Aramis, knowing he'd understand not to say another word.

Aramis said nothing and ran out.

"Oh-" Constance, let her hand fall to her side. She was wide eyed, placing a hand on her cheek as her eyes began rapidly looking back and forth from the door and the flowers. "Oh god, I had no idea." Running into the kitchen, she grabbed a rag and began quickly wrapping the flowers into a tight hold. Furiously shaking her head, she began opening every window of the home as Porthos watched, still desperately wanting to run after his friends but wanting to know what her plans where. "I'm getting rid of these. Don't let him in while the house airs out, I don't want something to happen." She rushed out the door, looking the opposite direction the others had gone.

"Of course." Porthos nodded, waiting until she had left, flowers in hand, and sprinted out the door.

* * *

 

It had only been a couple of feet that they'd had between them at first but it was as if the panic had granted D'artagnan faster speed as he disappeared around another corner. He was losing sight of him and froze when he'd realized he'd taken the wrong corner.

And now he'd lost him completely, leaving his brother with nothing but fear and memories that would kill him if he didn't find him soon. Athos walked quietly, knowing D'artagnan wouldn't respond if he'd called out and searched desperately for a sign, anything that would lead him to his little brother. Praying to a god he didn't believe in that something would-

_There is a god._ Athos breathed out in relief when he'd heard loud, familiar coughing in another alley far behind him. He ran, not wanting to lose his only source.

Athos finally found him in some filthy alley several buildings away. It was rather easy to find him when the sounds of someone retching violently were unusual until at least an hour after dark. D'artagnan was leaning towards the wall, one hand clutched in vain against the stone for some type of support. The other was around his stomach, and Athos grimaced when he saw  D'artagnan retch again. He jogged to his brother's side, eyes widening when he saw how badly he was shaking and trying to catch his breath. It was worse than the first time, back out in the woods. "It's okay. " Athos kept a firm hand on D'artagnan's back, lowering next to him and hoping the sensation would somehow would ground him, feeling him tremble under his touch. "You're  _okay."_

"He told me. I know wher-" D'artagnan gasped, shuddering as he took in another weak attempt of a breath, hands on his knees. His throat was probably making his voice sound scratchy and rough but he didn't care. Even his stomach still hurt horribly but he felt too weak to vomit again. And the last thing he wanted was to fall into the puddle of bile he'd made so he focused on putting whatever strength he still _had_ into his legs. "Saw her before. His daughter-She's..."

Athos frowned, as D'artagnan was slowly putting more of his weight on his knees, getting closer to the ground.  "D'artagnan, breathe." He used his other arm to grip onto D'artagnan's arm, as they both began crouching down. He was worried his words weren't having the effect as quickly as last time. "You need to breathe."

D'artagnan shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head in a fury. They didn't understand. He knew. _God_ he  _knew_ what had happened to that mans daughter. Where her body had stayed for who knows how long after she had passed. _Who_ she had stayed with... His hand was gripping back onto Athos' jacket in a death grip. "I can't go back. Don't want to-th-the flowers. " He was beginning to hyperventilate and Athos glanced up when he saw movement. Aramis and Porthos had finally found them. D'artagnan's gasp brought his attention back. He was at a loss, and simply kept his tight hold on D'artagnan as he sat on heels. "Oh  _god_ , his daughter..."

He was going to be sick, from what he could feel bubbling in his stomach. He didn't even want to imagine the kinds of things Lucas had done to the girl after what he'd done to him. D'artagnan wrapped his arms around him tightly, wheezing gasps muffled when Aramis pulled him into a tight embrace, hat falling onto the dirt.

"Listen to me, frère." Aramis whispered into his ear, glancing up at Athos. "You are back home." He frowned, feeling a shaky breathe being inhaled so he held him tighter, wanting to calm him down. "You are with your brothers. You are  _safe._ " Aramis calmly smiled as he felt a nod against his chest. "Nothing is going to happen again. We won't let it." Porthos whispered something to Athos, and Aramis looked up to see relief fill his eyes. They must be talking about what happened with Constance.

As if he'd read their thoughts, D'artagnan put a shaky hand against Aramis' chest and pushed. "Constance..." The three looked down at their youngest, reading the guilt that began replacing what had once been fear. "I didn't mean...I-The flowers..." He began stumbling to his feet, swaying enough the Aramis had to keep him steady until he was sure he could stand on his own. Even then, Aramis didn't move his hand from D'artagnan's arm and D'artagnan didn't move it either. "Constance-I need to apologize-"

"Don't worry." Porthos wrapped an arm around him shoulder, smiling gently at the fact that even after everything, the lad was still trying to make sure his love knew he would be okay."Everything's done. You don't need to explain an' she won't have those near you any longer."

"Neither will we." Athos nodded as they walked out of the alley, noticing the sun beginning to set, making the sky a faded red hue. Porthos sat him back down on a crate, at least until they were all sure he wasn't going to puke again, since him standing had made him look greener than they'd liked.  _At least 'es breathin' again_

D'artagnan shook his head as he wrestled out of their grasp. "I can't live my life like this." His eyes looked pained and brought the worry back into the older musketeers hearts. D'artagnan ran his hands through his hair, muttering as they watched. "Hiding from a wildflower, its a joke for a musketeer to-" He tensed, one hand still frozen with his locks falling slowly from his grasp. _Like a dog on the streets._ He let his hands fall, before breathing deeply and acting as though nothing had happened.  _Like the child you are._

"What is it?" Athos raised an eyebrow, not liking the dull look in D'artagnan's eyes. He looked... _broken._   _  
_

D'artagnan looked away raising a hand to shrug it off. "Nothing. I'm fine." He kept his eyes downcast, remembering the stinging words all to well from the fields. He didn't want to thin about it yet it was always there, hanging in the back of his mind like a thin strand of spiderweb you'd see when the sunlight came in.

Athos glanced at him again, before looking away and nodding slowly to himself. This had to come to an end. He shot another look at Aramis and Porthos, understanding instantly connecting between the three as they silent conversation started. Aramis raised his hands in surrender and Porthos half bowed in a dramatic fashion, trying to be as lighthearted as they could although they'd both had wanted to stay for D'artagnan's well being. "He's all yours."

Athos helped a reluctant D'artagnan to his feet as the others watched. Aramis crossed his arms, wry smile spreading on his face. "Please don't break him, he's had enough already." Porthos looked away to hide his laugh and Athos stared at them with a look at made them laugh more.

Athos rolled his eyes, thinking to himself that he was going to smack them both later. "You two, are idiots. You." He grabbed D'artagnan's arm again before he snuck off, trying to use the distraction to get away. "Come with me." 

D'artagnan looked back at Porthos and Aramis confused and desperate when he saw them wave and walk away, deep in conversation. He was pulled away like a child from a toy store, comforting yet firm and you could tell he didn't want to go. Athos' grip on his arm was relentless, although he wasn't gripping onto him hard enough to hurt. The sun had set and the cold air was making his lungs hurt, but Athos still lead him onward. After a few minutes they'd finally come to a stop in front of a building, _Athos' home,_ and Athos had finally let him go while he unlocked his door. While D'artagnan still wanted to head back, he found his feet were reluctant to leave."Athos please, I-"

"No speaking until we're inside." Athos replied, not looking back and they finally heard the lock click. The door opened with a small creak and they'd stepped inside, D'artagnan with a little help. With the door shut behind them, it was pitch black and at first D'artagnan was wondering what was going to happen to him but Athos lit a candle across the room. He walked around his home, light candles until it was light enough not to strain their eyes. Athos looked at him before sighing and putting the candle down on the table, bringing up a chair from across the room and putting it in front of D'artagnan. He sat on a small crate, not bothering to get the other chair from the next room. He waited for D'artagnan to awkwardly sit in the chair across the table, looking as uneasy as a thief in an interrogation. 

Athos knew he wasn't going to like this. He knew what was going on with D'artagnan and as much as he'd not wanted to talk, it had to be done.

For  _both_ their sakes. And their friendship.


	16. And we'll never leave you

" _What happened_."

D'artagnan knew he wouldn't be able to leave, seeing as how Athos had seated himself between D'artagnan and the door. Yet He would avoid it as long as he could, buying himself more time until he though of a good reason to escape. "You already saw my injuries." He'd answered quietly, avoiding eye contact for the fear that he'd see the pure hate in them again.

Athos slid his eyes closed, wanting D'artagnan to trust him again. He wanted this to be over with as quickly as possible, because making it longer only made it hurt more for the both of them. "We only see what wounds others from their appearance. What hurts inside can't be seen as easily." Athos opened his eyes with a sigh, seeing D'artagnan fidgeting in his seat. He never did like being confronted by any of them, whether he was actually guilty or not. "You're hiding something."

"It's nothing." D'artagnan knew his eyes betrayed his words. Especially since he was currently unable to even look Athos in the face and was currently staring down the wooden table.

"Something being _nothing_  can lead you down a dark path, D'artagnan. It almost led me into the fires." Athos had hoped opening himself up would rub off on him, making this a little easier for the two of them. He stared at him again, resignation filling his mind once he saw D'artagnan look uncomfortably away. He didn't want to make this worse by pressuring the boy into revealing anything he wasn't ready to yet. "I'm not entirely willing to force you to do this, but if it becomes an issue-"

"Do you..." D'artagnan's interruption came out as a whisper, almost being missed completely if Athos hadn't stopped mid sentence when he saw D'artagnan tense. His head was down and he was fiddling with his hands, looking as if he was unsure he was willing to continue. "Do you remember anything from when we were at camp in those woods? After the leaving the inn?" He looked up at Athos, eyes wide and afraid.

Athos felt his chest hurt, as the flashed memory broke through where he'd stuffed them away into the darkest corners of his mind. "It..." Came with the bad dreams, whether because his mind was still fighting to deny the truth or because he was going mad with guilt. Maybe both, after he'd heard his words. "It comes and goes. Whatever comes isn't really pleasant to say the least." Athos frowned, leaning forward in his chair and passing a hand over his face. The memories were impossible to deny as long as he kept fighting to forget them.

"So you know-"

"What I said. Yes." Athos sighed, heart heavy with guilt and shame. It was never his intention to cause this much harm. And yet he was always here. "And I'm sorry..." Something this horrible, having the people you care about take everything back and throw it in your face, he wouldn't be surprised if D'artagnan was never the same around him again. "I'm ashamed with each memory that I have of that meeting, but I know nothing can erase what had happened." Nothing can stop the memories either, as much as they'd both pray to be free of them. The room filled with a silence again, candle flickering as a smooth breeze crept in from the night.

D'artagnan was dragged back in time, remembering the candle light in that dark basement. His talks with his captor that threatened to break him completely if not for the stroke of luck he'd had in finally being able to escape. "Lucas...back inside that Inn, he said something-"

"And you believe it true." Athos cut in, failing in his attempt to hide the hurt behind his eyes.

I'm fighting not to..." D'artagnan admitted, muttering it as he shook his head to clear it. He didn't want to think about it more than he had to, but if he kept this to himself any longer he knew the trust would never be the same. You can glue something back together but you'll still know the cracks are there. "He said that you'd _wanted_ to do this. To do this to me a-and all that you'd needed was the push." If his hands were shaking, he didn't notice, as he was too focused on the constant heartbeat he felt in his throat. "I keep trying to make sure that I forget what happened but I can't a-and... it scares me." He kept a tight grip on the hair by his ears, hoping to get his heartbeat down again.

Athos leaned in, "No one wants to hurt someone they care about so long as they're sane. But D'artagnan, you and I both know he put something in that wine. And that drink, even by itself is the worst type of poison you can give anyone to make sure nothing good comes. I know." Athos clenched his hands in front of him, watching his knuckles whiten in his lap. "Porthos and Aramis know just as well as you do that wine can push someone over the edge." He looked up again, catching D'artagnan's eyes, noticing the helplessness hidden behind them."But I want you to realize something. No matter what you may hear other say or even those doubts that may fill your mind, you are _not_ a burden. You are worth more than anyone tells you, even myself." Athos stood over and crouched in front D'artagnan, sitting stiffly as he kept his eyes focused on the floor. Athos swallowed and stood again, looking away and feeling frustrated. Crossing his arms, he caught D'artagnan's glance and made sure to keep it. "You really want to know why you are a danger to us?" 

D'artagnan slowly shook his head, letting his gaze fall. He was ready to hear the truth. They didn't need him. They never did. Everything, the training, the scolding and jokes were out of pity. They hated him.

"You are a danger to us..." Athos got down and placed both hands on D'artagnan's shoulders, making the gascon focus completely on him. "...For the same reason that I am a danger to the rest of _you._ Or Porthos, or even Aramis..." Athos glanced to his left, thinking. "Although, Aramis is typically a _larger_ danger after all the trouble he brings from the women he chases..." Athos put his head down and sighed, hands losing their grip on D'artagnan's shoulders but still holding on. "I'm getting off track." He patted D'artagnan's shoulders again before standing, stretching his legs since he'd been wearing his boots for several days without stopping. "The thing is, D'artagnan, that the only reason we can risk each other is because we care too much for one another. That love can make either one of us a prime target for any of our enemies. Do you understand?" Athos turned and looked back at D'artagnan, now letting his body relax against the chair.

"I'm just a farmboy...." He muttered,  crossing his arms tightly around him for comfort. He leaned against the seat, the firm wood against him keeping him from falling back and curling in on himself..

Athos nodded, realizing what else needed to be said. "You _are_ a farmboy." Athos watched D'artagnan flinch and tense again. He walked up to him, making sure not to do anything to startle him again. "But you've become so much more than that D'artagnan. After all this training and experience you've turned into someone that I'm confident that you're father would be _proud_ of. " He could've smiled at the way D'artagnan's eyes widened when his face snapped up to meet Athos' gaze. It felt so much better than his eyes widening in fear. "You are a brother. _Our_ brother."

D'artagnan slammed into him with so much force that he would've broken something had he been standing wrong. And the arms wrapped around his neck were definitely comparable to Porthos's strength.

"You are a _musketeer._ " Athos said quietly, standing straighter and returning the hug. He laughed, feeling like he was on the brink of drowning in guilt and took a deep breath. Smile strong on his face he hugged tighter, finally glad that things were going to get better. He could feel the shuddering in D'artagnan's shoulders while he talked." And not even a crazed murder will stop that. _Hell,_ no one on this god forsaken earth will every be able to stop that because no matter what  _we_ will be by your side every step, even if we have to hold you up along the way. " D'artagnan let his arms fall, backing away and used his arm to wipe his face. His smile was back, the _real_ one, not the one that looked as strained as a broken heart. When you smile even if it feels like the world's falling at your feet.

Wrapping an arm around D'artagnan's shoulder, he began walking with him to the window. The room felt much warmer and it was starting to be a little stuffy. That and to see just how late it had gotten outside. Seeing the white dots littered across the night sky was enough to let him know. No doubt this had left D'artagnan feeling exhausted, having to keep a tight hold on his doubt filled thoughts for so long and suddenly letting them go. "Whether from battle or bars, you can always put your trust in us." Athos leaned against the window frame, small smile on his face as D'artagnan nodded. "Never forget that." 

_"Finally."_

Athos and D'artagnan froze in confusion, looking down to the street below.

Porthos was leaning against the building in front, grin shinning under the moonlight. "You have any idea how long we've been waiting for you two?" He pointed off to the side where Aramis was sitting on a barrel and looking disgusted. "Aramis almost passed out from standing so long."

Aramis went wide mouthed, brows furrowed as the anger and shock slapped him in the face."I did  _not!_ Did you not smell the demonic  _fungus_ growing from that man's 'produce'?" Aramis jumped up, yelling as he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand in an attempt to rid it of the smell. "Mon _dieu_ it was like something had died in there! And I'm positive that ' _fruit'_ had moved." He paced in front of the building rapidly, ranting about the producing slipping into spanish at a rapid pace.

"'s just your upper lip." Porthos looked away innocently, arms behind his back as he rocked on the heels of his feet. 

" _Excuse me?"_ Aramis stood firm and swiveled around to face his friend. Insulting a man was one thing, insulting his beauty was another. "My facial hair is so much cleaner than that  _fuzz_ you call a mustache."

"Don't mock this 'stache." Porthos warned, one hand petting his facial hair, the other pointing menacingly.

"Now I remember where those headaches are from." Athos grumbled into the nook of his arm. He and D'artagnan had been watching from the window and Athos was too lazy to go down and slap them both. He stood straight and called down, ignoring the snickering on his left and focusing on the two morons below him. "Are you two _finished?_ I'd prefer that your scream didn't try to reach  _Spain._ " _  
_

_"He started it!"_

 Athos groaned, palm hitting his face. He dragged the hand down his face and waved the two of them off again. "I'm finishing it. Just get in here before they send a patrol over from the noise. I'm not in the mood for fighting over some spoiled fruit." D'artagnan laughed as Athos huffed and walked back to his table, snatching a book from his nightstand as the two shoved into the door. " Idiots."

 D'artagnan laughed, and headed to close the door. He stopped once he noticed the man run around the corner. His uniform was unkempt from running and he was red faced."You seen the two screaming out here?"

 _Patrol._ D'artagnan glanced to his left, hearing the laughs from behind him. Shaking his head, he pointed down the alley, glad the patrolman turned so he wouldn't see the smile that would give him away."They ran that way, you can't miss them." The man nodded, and took to running again. D'artagnan quietly closed the door and took a deep breath. "So technically you two owe me right?" He turned with arms crossed and a smug look.

"What? How do  _we_ owe you?" Porthos cocked his head and Aramis confusedly raised an eyebrow. 

D'artagnan raised his gaze to the ceiling and began to walk absentmindedly. "I mean someone could just mention that the two _grown_ men the patrols searching for are hiding in _this_ house." D'artgnan motioned over to Athos and shrugged, sinking into the other chair. "And _terrorizing_ the owner and his company."

"Athos?" Aramis frowned, putting an arm over his chair to turn behind him.

They all looked back to see him with his feet propped up on his nightstand, nose in a book. "You ran in here, I know nothing." He sighed, turning the page. He had enough of an adventure with trouble and was going to take any opportunity to be home with a good story. 

"Yeah, yeah. Fine what do you want." Porthos muttered as Aramis grumbled in spanish before smacking Porthos on the arm.

"A reason for me running away from Constance. I can't think of anything and I know she'll kill me if I don't come back." D'artagnan looked warily at the door and ran a hand through his hair. If someone could gather up all the guilt in the world and threw in a dollop of nervousness, you could partially see what kind of air the boy was radiating. He looked as a awkward as atheist at an extremely religious gathering. 

Porthos, walked up and put a firm arm around D'artagnan's shoulders, leading him to the door. "Already got you covered, you've got allergies. You won't see 'em in her home again." He ruffled his hair before letting him step outside, cheshire grin widening."Now  _that_ makes you an' me even, don't you think?"

"Works for me." D'artagnan smiled, quickly spinning around and faced Aramis, looking unimpressed. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. " _You_ still owe me, though."

Aramis went wide eyed and D'artagnan held back a laugh at the disbelief shining on the sharpshooters face. " _What?"_ Aramis turned to look back at Athos, hoping to get some means of escape. "You heard him." He hadn't even glanced up from the book. 

They couldn't see it though, from where they were now anyway. The couldn't see the smile forming as they continued to argue.  _I'm surrounded by children,_ he sighed contently.

_I'm surrounded by brothers._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated, everyone! Let me know what you think! ^///^


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